


Enter the Dragon

by Murder_Kitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Death Eater Hermione Granger, Double Agents, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Horcruxes, Life Debt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 37,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murder_Kitten/pseuds/Murder_Kitten
Summary: When Hermione Granger saves Draco's life, she has no idea just how quickly things will change as she is drawn into the Slytherin's world. The Malfoy family are keen to remove the life debt owed to a Muggleborn of all people, but the Dark Lord may have other plans for her...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 501
Kudos: 355





	1. Vulnera Sanentur

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. I make no profit from these works. All stories are for fun and entertainment only. My thanks to Gcgraywriter for the hard work she put into the manip for this story. 
> 
> I always welcome reviews/comments of people who enjoy my works. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoy it.

"That will do, I think." 

Hermione Granger heard Snape's words echo in the room and looked up with an expression of relief, moving her chair back from the desk with a loud _scrape_ and earning a reproving glare from him. 

She winced, but it was dinnertime, she was hungry and she was starting to regret signing up for these advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. Even Harry and Ron weren't fool enough to sign up for extra hours with Snape; but Dumbledore had insisted, and Hermione was eager to learn more defensive magic, even if her teacher tended to bring an unpleasant ire with him to most of these sessions. 

"Miss Granger," Snape called, just as she reached the door of classroom 6B and turned the ornate brass handle. 

"Yes, sir?" she replied through gritted teeth, turning to face him with what she hoped was a neutral expression. 

"I expect your essay no later than Tuesday, 11:59pm. Argus catching you out of bed again will not excuse a late submission on your part. Am I clear?" he said quietly. 

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, cursing the blush that reddened her cheeks. 

"Five rolls of parchment, Miss Granger. If you are more than an inch short of that requirement, I will assume you lack a sufficient understanding of the subject matter and _mark accordingly,_ " he said, placing special emphasis on the last two words. 

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, repeating herself, as Snape at last let her go. 

She entered the corridor on the sixth floor and shut the door of the usually disused classroom behind her with a quiet click, breathing a sigh of relief. It was short-lived, however, as she spotted the broad-shouldered profile of Cormac McLaggen waiting at the other end of the corridor. 

_Crap,_ Hermione thought, wrinkling her nose and glaring in his direction. She had been avoiding Cormac since returning to school after Christmas. Slughorn's party was the last time she had been alone with the Gryffindor Reserve Keeper, and she was determined to maintain that distance between them. 

She turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor in the opposite direction, away from Cormac and away from dinner, she thought regretfully, the delicious smell of roast chicken fading the further away she got from the staircases that led to the Great Hall, where dinner was no doubt being served. 

As she passed a bathroom on the left-hand side of the corridor, Hermione paused. The thickness of the stone walls and the magic imbuing them made it difficult for noise to carry within the castle, but she could hear the unmistakable sounds of banging, screaming and shouting coming from the bathroom. 

_Walk away,_ she told herself _, it's not your business._ But she was a Prefect, and a Gryffindor, and her curiosity had not diminished in the slightest in the six years since she had first entered Hogwarts… 

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, registering the three unlikely occupants of the room a split-second before one of them shouted " _Sectumsempra!"_

The effect was instantaneous. Blood spurted in a sickening fountain of scarlet from the chest of one of the boys, as he collapsed into a pool of filthy water with a splash and a muffled _thud_. 

"No," the first boy murmured in shock, dropping his wand and kneeling at the wounded boy's side in a pool of water that was rapidly turning crimson. 

Hermione stood frozen in shock as she watched him try to staunch the wounds he had inflicted, pressing his own hands to the wounds, but the blood just kept coming. 

"Help me," he exclaimed, turning to the door, fear and anguish reflected in his tear-filled, green eyes. 

Hermione walked forward slowly, hypnotised by the sight of the blood seeping into the gaps of the bathroom tiles, washing them in swirling vermilion. 

"Harry, what have you done?" Hermione said in shock, her eyes tracing the obviously deep wounds from which blood was still trickling in a steady stream that was staining Harry's fingers maroon. 

"I-- I didn't mean to," Harry said, his voice shaking. "I didn't know what that spell would do." 

"This was a Prince spell?" Hermione said, sinking to her knees and drawing in a deep breath as she slipped her wand from the pocket of her robes. 

"Just shut-up, I need to concentrate," Hermione said crossly to Myrtle who was sitting on the edge of a broken sink and sobbing uncontrollably. 

_I know this spell, I know it,_ Hermione told herself, forcing her mind to focus on the particular page of the Prince's book. The spells had been scribbled in the margins, marked "for enemies." She could practically see it in her mind's eye. 

But what if she was wrong? If she made it worse, she would lose more than house points. Draco would die. And while she couldn't say she was exactly a fan or even a friend of Draco's, she wasn't about to let him die. 

"Harry, get Snape," she ordered, opening Draco's shirt to get a better look at the wounds. 

"Snape?" Harry repeated blankly. 

"Yes, Snape," Hermione said impatiently. "He's in the classroom at the end of the corridor. Go!" she said loudly when he hesitated. 

Harry looked regretfully at Draco, but did as he was told for once, disappearing out the door to find Snape. 

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, her breaths coming so fast she was practically hyperventilating. 

_I can do this, I can do this,_ she told herself, her resolve strengthening. 

" _Vulnera sanentur,"_ she chanted, her voice shaking as she traced her wand over the deep wounds. 

She waited with bated breath as the blood flow slowed, then repeated the spell, the residual blood clearing and the wounds beginning to close. 

" _Vulnera sanentur,"_ she half-sang the incantation for a third time as the door banged open behind her, but the wounds had now closed completely, new skin knitting the deep slashes together. 

"G--Granger?" Draco murmured, looking up at her with evident surprise. 

It was a feeling shared by Professor Snape who threw her a long, calculating look. 

"Potter, escort Malfoy to the hospital wing and try not to kill him on the way. Tell Madam Pomfrey to give him Dittany and Blood Replenishing Potion. Then wait for me in my office," he ordered, vanishing the pools of water and blood from the floor as Harry helped Draco to his feet. 

"Don't touch me, Potter," Draco hissed venomously, though he leaned on him weakly as the pair left the bathroom. 

Hermione waited for Snape to speak, certain he was about to question her. She wasn't disappointed. 

"Leave us," Snape ordered, waiting until Myrtle vanished from sight, before rounding on Hermione. 

"How did you know the countercurse?" he asked without preamble, his dark eyes not leaving her face. 

"I-- I read about it," Hermione stammered, cursing the guilty flush that rose in her cheeks, betraying her. 

Snape glared down at her, then nodded stiffly. For a moment, Hermione wondered if he was going to thank her for saving Draco, as the professor's jaw muscles twitched. 

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger," he said, dashing her hopes. "Five for lying to me, and fifteen for doing a poor job of it." 

Hermione opened her mouth to protest immediately. She _had_ read it in a book after all, but she would never betray Harry's confidence, not even for his own good. She had told him and told him how dangerous that book was ...

"You can go back to your Common Room," Snape said dismissively. "You are not to set foot in the Great Hall in this state," he added, gesturing to her bloodstained robes. 

Hermione cast him a withering look, but left, making her way slowly to Gryffindor Tower and going immediately to bed. She didn't want to answer any more questions tonight, especially not from Parvati or Lavender who shared her room. 

By morning, the entire school would know what had happened in the bathroom, along with one other person. 

Mr Lucius Malfoy would hear about this … 


	2. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

"Where were you last night?" Ron Weasley hissed to Hermione at breakfast the following morning. 

"What?" Hermione said absentmindedly, yawning for effect as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. 

"I said," Ron repeated. "Where were you? Harry told me what happened with Malfoy. Why did you ditch us?" 

"Ditch?" Hermione repeated, looking affronted. "I didn't _ditch_ Harry. Where is he, anyway?" she added, glancing up and down the Gryffindor table. 

"McGonagall's office. She cornered him as soon as we left the Tower this morning," Ron shrugged. "But you would know that if you hadn't ditched us." 

"I didn't ditch you," Hermione said, starting to get a little annoyed. It was fitting that Ron's Patronus was a Jack Russel Terrier, she thought. He was like a dog with a bone. 

"Then where were you?" Ron persisted. 

"Not that it's any of your business," Hermione said stiffly. "But I was in bed." 

"Before dinner?" Ron said incredulously. 

"Yes, I was tired," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him. 

Ron stared at her in utter disbelief. But before he could open his mouth to ask Hermione anything further, owls began to stream into the Great Hall with the morning post, creating a distraction Hermione was immensely thankful for. 

"Who's that from?" Ron asked, as a large eagle-owl bearing an official looking envelope in its beak landed in front of Hermione. 

"No idea," Hermione said, wondering if the bird was lost. Then she saw the name written on the envelope in swirling green calligraphy: _Miss H Granger._

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she took the envelope gently from the owl's beak, and allowed the bird to help itself to her bowl of porridge.

Turning the envelope over, Hermione traced the emerald green wax seal with trembling fingers. A large 'M' was centred on a house shield, flanked by two winged dragons and bearing the words _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper._ The crest and words of House Malfoy. 

Holding her breath, Hermione cracked the seal and tore the envelope open, extracting a letter written on heavy parchment and a necklace and gold pendant from the envelope. 

Setting the jewelry aside, and ignoring Ron, she unfolded the letter and began to read. 

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Though we have only met once or twice, I consider myself a man with the ability to leave a lasting impression, so I have no doubt that you remember me. While our views and loyalties may differ, I find myself indebted to you for saving the life of my son and heir, Draco._

_I do not imagine that a Muggleborn such as yourself has much knowledge of life debts of the sort you have unknowingly forged between yourself and my son. These are some of the oldest and deepest magics known to wizardkind, the intricacies of which I am ill equipped to teach you, though should you find yourself desiring such knowledge of these ancient magics, Severus Snape would be pleased to assist you at my request._

_However, I extend to you my deepest gratitude and should you be in need of anything that is within my power to give, you shall have it, as a token of the appreciation of my House and family, in acknowledgement of the life debt that has been invoked._

_In consideration of the service you have so kindly rendered to me, I have taken the liberty of setting up a savings account with Gringotts Bank on your behalf, which amounts to a small fortune, and should sustain you for the length of your life, presuming it is not squandered on frivolous pursuits. The vault is number 847, and is yours to use whenever and for whatever you wish. You need only present the pendant I have enclosed for identification._

_As a further token of my gratitude, I have purchased shares in Flourish and Blotts and Obscurus Books, which Gringotts Bank is holding on your behalf. These are yours to do with as you wish, but I consider both businesses to be a wise investment and do not doubt it will be a profitable arrangement for you in the long-term._

_I have also arranged for your possessions to be moved to the best accommodations Hogwarts Castle can provide - a separate suite of rooms adjacent to the Slytherin common room, which includes a private bathroom and well stocked library for your personal enjoyment. I can also procure a house elf to serve at your pleasure, should you wish it._

_As my final gift to you, and under my authority as the Head of my House, I extend to you immunity encompassing all attacks from both members of the Inner Circle and the wider wizarding community. Your blood status is henceforth to be considered equivalent to that of a half-blood, in consideration of the debt and the ties you now hold to the magic and heir of House Malfoy. You therefore share our bond, our favour and our magic until the life debt shall be repaid in full._

_Yours in service and gratitude,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding as she came to the end of the letter and dropped it on the table, her mind reeling. She knew Lucius had scarcely served three full months in Azkaban after the mass capture of Voldemort's supporters in the Department of Mysteries. But she hadn't expected him to return to Voldemort's favour quite so quickly or so extensively as to be able to offer immunity from attacks or to retain his influence in the wizarding community and she wondered what he'd had to do to secure those things. And that wasn't the only thing she wondered about ... _Life debts? A small fortune? Immunity from Death Eater attacks? And the biggest kicker of all - Lucius Malfoy wanted to be B.F.F.'s._

"What the _fuck?"_ she muttered, glaring at the letter with an expression that was a mixture of confusion and revulsion. 

Lucius Malfoy _hated_ her … or so she'd thought. It didn't make sense. She was nothing to him; a Mudblood without money or social standing, unworthy and unwanted; a blight on the pureblood society that people like Lucius claimed to want. 

"What's the matter?" Ron asked, noting her expression. 

Hermione shook her head, still trying to come to terms with it. She would think the letter was a joke if it weren't for the fact that Lucius had never displayed a sense of humour that she'd seen. 

"I need to go to the library," Hermione decided, snatching up her bag, and shoving the letter and the necklace into the front pocket. 

"Charms is in an hour," Ron reminded her. 

"I'll- I'll meet you there," Hermione promised, walking away before Ron decided to follow her. She needed to think. And she needed to research life debts and find out why exactly they were such a big deal. 

But after forty-five minutes of scouring the library shelves and a two minute conversation with an irate Madam Pince, Hermione was forced to come to one inescapable conclusion: life debts were old magic and not for amateurs to mess with. The books concerned with that particular branch of study were locked in the Restricted Section, out of her reach, unless she had a signed note from a professor … or an Invisibility Cloak. 


	3. Third Time's The Charm

"You're late, Miss Granger," Professor Flitwick said in a mildly scolding tone as Hermione entered the Charms classroom. 

"Sorry, Professor. It won't happen again," Hermione promised, slipping into her usual seat between Harry and Ron. 

"Be sure that it doesn't," the tiny professor squeaked. "Ahem - now, to today's lesson!" he said, moving to the front of the classroom. "Who can tell me what the Drought charm is used for?" 

As usual, Hermione's hand was first in the air. 

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Professor Flitwick said, nodding encouragingly at her. 

"The Drought charm is used to dry up small bodies of water, such as puddles or ponds. It is ineffective against larger bodies of water like oceans and lakes," she answered immediately. 

"Precisely," Professor Flitwick exclaimed, beaming. "Ten points to Gryffindor!" 

"Now, the incantation for this spell is _Assicco,"_ he said instructively. "Let me hear you all try it, without wands first. One, two, three, _Assicco!_ Very good!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Now, remember to make the "oh" at the end nice and strong. And move your wand like this," he added, demonstrating. "Like a sideways fish hook! That's the trick! Now, Mr Thomas, come up here and hand out these glasses of water to everyone. You'll be attempting to dry them up by the end of the lesson!" 

A low hum of chatter filled the room as the water was handed out and the class began attempting the charm. 

" _Assicco!_ " Hermione said, drying up her water on her third try. "Are you okay, Harry?" she added in a low murmur as her best friend rested his head on the desk and stared glumly at his own glass of water, not even attempting the spell. 

"Fine, just tired," he mumbled. 

"He had nightmares all night," Ron added helpfully. 

Harry glared at him. 

"What?" Ron said defensively. 

"Forget it," Harry sighed. 

"Why don't you go see Madam Pomfrey, Harry?" Hermione suggested. "She could give you some Dreamless Sleep Potion." 

"I can't," Harry replied. 

"Harry," Hermione said gently. "Nobody will think any less of you if you need a potion to sleep." 

"That's not why," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I can't because Malfoy's still up there." 

"So? Tell him it was an accident. That you're sorry," Hermione said. 

"Why should he be sorry?" Ron demanded. "Malfoy's a right git. He probably had it coming." 

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed reproachfully, lowering her voice when Professor Flitwick glanced in their direction. "Malfoy nearly _died_. Harry's lucky he--"

"You sound like McGonagall," Harry complained. 

"Well, she's probably right," Hermione said stubbornly. "What did she say anyway?" 

"That detention with Snape til the end of term is getting off _lightly_ ," Harry said with a grimace. "That I was lucky not to be expelled and that Mr Malfoy is perfectly within his rights to--"

"Draco's father?" Hermione interrupted. 

"Yep," Harry said. 

"What did he do?" Hermione asked. She had a feeling Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be as kindly disposed towards Harry as he had been to her in the aftermath of the Sectumsempra incident. 

"Made a formal complaint to the school governors to try and get me expelled," Harry replied. "Dumbledore took care of it, but Mr Malfoy is filing a restraining order as well. I can't be within fifty feet of Malfoy or his father will have me arrested." 

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said faintly. "How are you going to stand fifty feet apart for classes? You'd have to stand on the Quidditch pitch with an Extendable Ear just to hear what the teachers are saying!" 

"Dunno," Harry shrugged, going back to staring at his glass of water. 

"Not feeling well, Mr Potter?" a voice asked, making the trio jump as they realised Professor Flitwick had come up from behind and caught them unawares.

"I'm fine, Professor," Harry said, sitting up with a grimace. 

"Very well," Professor Flitwick said with a nod. "Let me see you and Mr Weasley try then." 

_"Assicco!_ " Harry and Ron said together, both glasses bubbling and spilling over. 

"A little more practice, I think," Professor Flitwick said kindly. " _Assicco!"_ He said, evaporating the spilled water before refilling their glasses for them with the _Aguamenti_ charm. 

"Oh, Miss Granger," he added. "That reminds me. Professor McGonagall would like to have a word with you in her office before the end of the day. Be sure to tell her I passed the message along," he said jovially. 

* * *

Lunch was a very subdued affair, each of the Gryffindors lost in their own thoughts. Even Ron was only picking at his chicken casserole. 

"I'm going to go see what McGonagall wants," Hermione announced, getting up from the table and slinging her bag over her shoulder. 

"Want us to come?" Ron asked, still playing with his food. 

"No, I'll be fine. Make sure Harry eats something," she added in an undertone as she left the Great Hall and made her way to Professor McGonagall's office on the first floor. 

The door was open and Hermione hesitated before entering. 

"Professor?" she called, knocking on the doorframe. 

"Come in, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall called. "Have a seat." 

"I can come back if you're … busy," Hermione said, as she noticed the professor was not alone; a tall man with long white-blond hair was standing in front of the fireplace. 

"Not at all. Please, do come in, Miss Granger," Lucius Malfoy said, greeting her. "You received my letter, I trust?" 

"Uh, yes," Hermione managed. "Thank you," she added, words failing her. 

"Thank _you_ ," Lucius said, inclining his head. "I was just telling Professor McGonagall here about the very generous donation I am making to upgrade the hospital wing of Hogwarts School so that students like my son can get the care they need." 

"Very generous," Professor McGonagall said stiffly. 

"It's truly not," Lucius said smoothly. 

"You're right, it's not," Hermione said, finding her voice. "Look, thank you for the letter, Mr Malfoy, but-- but, you tried to have Harry expelled! You filed a restraining order against him!" she said accusingly, glaring at Lucius who didn't look the least bit perturbed. 

On the contrary, he smiled. 

"Miss Granger, I understand you want to protect your friend. Very admirable, I am sure," Lucius said slowly. "I am protecting someone too. Draco is my only son and I will do what I must to ensure his safety. You have my protection too … for now." he added, his pale eyes gleaming. "Good day, Professor. Miss Granger," he said with a curt little nod, bowing out of the room. 

Hermione let out a deep sigh at the same time as the Transfiguration professor. 

"Please, close the door, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said wearily. 

Hermione did as she was asked and then resumed her seat, shaking her head slightly. 

"Have a biscuit, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, indicating the tin on her desk. 

"What?" Hermione said, certain she hadn't heard right. 

"Have a biscuit," Professor McGonagall sighed. "There are several things we need to discuss." 

Hermione took a biscuit and glanced nervously at the Professor, who had a pitying look in her eyes. Hermione took a bite of her biscuit and swallowed hard, trying to swallow her own feelings of dread along with the sweet, buttery biscuit. Whatever Professor McGonagall was about to tell her, whatever part Lucius Malfoy was playing in it, she wasn't going to like it … 


	4. Polyjuice & Portraits

"Professor, you can't be serious!" Hermione exclaimed. 

Minerva McGonagall looked at her sternly and adjusted her spectacles. 

"I am serious," she replied. "This entire situation is _deadly_ serious, Miss Granger, and things need to change before it gets completely out of hand, if it hasn't already." 

"Harry didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident. Professor, surely you understa--"

"Accident or not, one student was very nearly murdered at the hands of one of my own House," Professor McGonagall interrupted. 

" _Murdered?"_ Hermione repeated in disbelief. "That's a very extreme way to look at it. It was an _accident,_ Professor." 

"Dark curses are not accidents, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said curtly. "And I fear that given Potter and Malfoy's history, the Wizengamot would view it the same way. And," she added, raising her voice when Hermione looked like interrupting. "Given _your_ history of being dragged along on Potter's every misadventure and misdemeanor, I must intervene. You are one of our brightest and best students, Miss Granger, yet your judgement seems to be at its poorest when you are helping Potter and Weasley evade the consequences of their actions. It is not in their best interests for that to continue and it is not in _your_ best interests, either." 

"But, Professor, they're my _friends,_ " Hermione objected immediately. 

"And you may continue those friendships, but in the meantime, Potter will be taking classes with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and keeping his distance from Malfoy. And you will be moving into the accommodations Mr Malfoy has so _kindly_ acquired for you. Some new influences and company may be best, even if they are Slytherins," the Professor said, rolling her eyes. 

"They hate me," Hermione said worriedly. 

"Don't be ridiculous. Regardless, Mr Malfoy has spoken to them - Nott, Zabini, and Miss Parkinson in particular, as well as his son. None of them will trouble you. On the contrary, he assures me they will go out of their way to make you welcome, especially since Mr Malfoy is eager to take you under his wing with all this life debt nonsense he has been babbling about."

"But--"

"The decision is made, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said with an air of finality. However, she seemed to note the distressed look on Hermione's face and her own expression softened a little. 

"I don't necessarily approve of Lucius Malfoy's methods or the company he keeps, but I don't think it will hurt to accept his generosity in this instance. On the contrary, I think it may do you good," she said gently. "The school year will end in a few months and if, at the end of that time, you would prefer to return to Gryffindor Tower, I will allow it. In the meantime, here are the passwords and directions to the private suite. The entrance is concealed, of course." 

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said grudgingly, accepting the piece of parchment. 

"Try to make the best of it, Miss Granger. And pass this timetable along to Potter when you see him in Potions this afternoon, if you would be so kind. He can start taking classes with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tomorrow. I expect Malfoy will be out of the hospital wing in a day or two." 

"Good," Hermione said, surprised to find that she meant it. 

* * *

Hermione joined the queue of sixth years outside Professor Slughorn's classroom with a sigh. It was more than a little tempting to simply go back to bed and start the day over. How could so much have changed since breakfast? She couldn't decide which was more irksome - Lucius Malfoy meddling in her life or Professor McGonagall's refusal to stop him from doing so. 

"Come in, come in, come in!" Professor Slughorn called happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he allowed the sixth years to file into his classroom. 

"Now then, take your seats. We have a lot to get through in today's lesson!" he exclaimed. 

Hermione slid into a seat next to Harry. If it was going to be their last class together for the term, she was damn well going to enjoy it. 

"Now, listen up," Professor Slughorn called. "We'll be attempting a very tricky potion today, so I need your full attention." 

Hermione reluctantly turned her attention to the professor who was standing behind a small pewter cauldron at the front of the class. 

"Now, who can tell me what this potion is called?" he asked, ladling up a little of it and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron so they could all see the colour and consistency of the potion. 

Hermione recognised the thick mud-like potion immediately. 

"Polyjuice, sir," she answered. 

"Correct, ten points to Gryffindor," Professor Slughorn said, beaming. 

"Now, I've been stewing these little chaps for twenty-one days, in preparation for today's lesson. Can anyone tell me-- Miss Granger?" 

"They're lacewing flies, professor," she answered. 

"They are indeed. Take ten more points, Miss Granger. You've certainly done your reading," he said proudly, turning back to the cauldron. 

"Now, Polyjuice is a devilish little potion, you won't have brewed it before," Professor Slughorn said, as Hermione exchanged a smirk with Harry and Ron. "Many grown wizards struggle to get it right, but I have complete faith in my junior potioneers! Instructions are on the board, ingredients are in the store cupboard, and you may help yourself to these pre-stewed lacewing flies when you need them. Off you go!" he exclaimed, as students scrambled to get to the store cupboard first. 

Hermione was the first back to the table, carrying bundles of fluxweed and knotgrass. She set her ingredients down and proceeded to kindle a fire beneath her cauldron while Harry and Ron had a muttered argument about whose turn it was to read and whose turn it was to fetch ingredients. Ron lost and stalked off to the store cupboard while Harry perused the instructions on the board with a slight smile. 

Hermione had already added the fluxweed and knotgrass to the cauldron, stirred four times clockwise and waved her wand over the cauldron in the time it took Ron to return to the table. 

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, wide-eyed as Hermione ignored the steaming contents of her cauldron and pulled her Defence Against the Dark Arts essay out of her bag and began writing. 

"It has to brew for eighty minutes, Ron. I'm multi-tasking," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Oh, alright then," Ron shrugged. "Harry, which do I add first?" 

"Fluxweed," Hermione answered, without looking up. 

When nearly an hour had passed quietly, Professor Slughorn came around to the tables and began inspecting the contents of the cauldrons. 

"Perfect, Miss Granger," the professor proclaimed on seeing her cauldron. "You can begin preparing your lacewing flies." 

Hermione nodded, and retrieved her mortar and pestle, adding two scoops of stewed lacewing flies and beating and pounding away at them until they resembled a smooth paste. She set the stone bowl aside and retrieved leeches, boomslang skin and bicorn horn from the store cupboard, her eyes fixed on the clock at the front of the room. 

When it had been precisely eighty minutes, she tossed four leeches into the cauldron, along with the lacewing fly paste, heating the mixture for thirty seconds, as she ground up the bicorn horn and waved her wand over the mixture. 

At this point, Ron's mixture began giving off a smell like cat urine, while Harry's began smoking profusely, and Hermione wrinkled her nose at the foul fumes. But her own potion was at a crucial point, so she refocused her attention on her cauldron, adding the boomslang skin and crushed bicorn horn and increasing the temperature for twenty carefully counted seconds, finishing off the mixture with a wave of her wand. 

"What did you do?" Harry asked Ron, as Hermione moved over to inspect their cauldrons. 

Hermione glanced at the whole lacewing flies floating on the surface of Ron's watery potion. 

"You didn't crush the lacewing flies," she observed. "Did you remember to stir yours four times clockwise, Harry?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. 

"It says counter-clockwise," Harry said, squinting at the instructions on the board. 

"It says _clockwise,_ Harry," Hermione sighed, knowing their potions would fail. 

"I told you so," Ron muttered. "You need glasses." 

"I would've been fine if I had the Prince's book," Harry muttered. "And I already have glasses," he pointed out. 

"Well, then you need _new_ glasses," Ron said with a laugh. 

"Boys, boys, a bit too much chatter over here!" Professor Slughorn called. Seeing the mess both had made of the potion, he shook his head ruefully, but brightened on seeing Hermione's textbook potion. "Excellent, Miss Granger. It just needs to brew for twenty-four hours! You can come back tomorrow afternoon to finish off. Have an early minute, if you like," he said happily. 

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione replied, moving to wash her things in the sink at the back of the classroom. 

"See you back in the common room then?" Harry asked, as he attempted four clockwise stirs on his potion. Too late, in Hermione's opinion. 

"Um, no, actually," Hermione stammered guiltily. "Professor McGonagall said I-- I'm being moved. It's just temporary," she said apologetically. "She gave me a new timetable to give you. Here," she said, passing Harry the piece of parchment. 

"Moved to where?" Ron asked suspiciously. 

"Just a private room. By myself," Hermione said evasively. 

"Not in the Tower?" Harry said, looking crestfallen. 

"No, but we'll still see each other at meals and classes. Well, I'll see Ron in class, I mean. Obviously yours will be different now, Harry. I'm sorry, it's not my choice," she stammered. 

"Where is this room?" Ron demanded. 

"Near the Slytherin's," Hermione shrugged. 

" _With_ the Slytherin's?" Ron said incredulously. 

" _Near._ Not with," Hermione corrected him. "Professor McGonagall thinks it's best." 

"Well, if Professor McGonagall thinks that, you better do it. Don't let us keep you from your new friends," Ron said bitterly. 

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but thought better of it and snatched up her bag, turning on her heel, and resisting the temptation to slam the classroom door shut behind her. _Bloody Ron and bloody Lucius Malfoy,_ she thought crossly, pulling the piece of parchment Professor McGonagall had given her out of her pocket. 

She followed the directions that had been written for her, coming to stop in front of a portrait of a toad crouching amongst some ferns. Glancing around, Hermione noted the portrait was opposite a blank stretch of wall, behind which the Slytherin common room was hidden. 

She turned back to the portrait with a sigh, reading the password off the parchment in a tone of resignation. 

"Venia," she muttered, as the toad gave a croak of approval, the portrait swinging open to reveal Hermione's new quarters. 

_It better be worth all this trouble_ , she thought grimly, and stepped inside. 


	5. Lady of the Lake

"About time, Granger. I've only been waiting _all_ afternoon," a voice complained, the sound echoing through the entryway where Hermione was standing.

"Parkinson?" Hermione said, mingled dread and disappointment in her voice. "What are you doing in here?" 

Pansy Parkinson turned from the hallway mirror with a smirk. 

"I'm your new roommate," Pansy declared, quirking an eyebrow at Hermione. 

"What?" Hermione said, as a feeling of dread flooded her stomach. 

"Mr Malfoy thought you'd be lonely," Pansy shrugged.

Hermione felt sick. She should have expected this, she thought bitterly. 

" _Kidding!"_ Pansy exclaimed. "But, _Merlin,_ you should see the look on your face." 

Hermione managed a half-laugh, though she was not at all amused at the Slytherin's little joke. 

"I am your _welcoming committee_ though," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. 

"Great," Hermione muttered unenthusiastically. 

"Watch the tone, Granger," Pansy said, narrowing her eyes. "I'm doing this as a favour." 

"To Mr Malfoy," Hermione said pointedly. 

"Really? Is that how it's going to be?" Pansy said, a challenge in her tone. 

"I didn't ask for this," Hermione said coldly. 

"You didn't ask for _me,_ you mean," Pansy said shrewdly. "You don't like me, you don't trust me …" 

"I don't," Hermione said, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them. "Why should I?" she added. 

"I didn't come here to beg you to like me, Granger. I came here to show you the place and then I'm gone," Pansy said stiffly. 

"Let's get it over with then," Hermione replied. 

She wasn't sure what it was about Parkinson that got her so riled up. It had always been like this, she thought bitterly as Pansy led her through a foyer with polished stone floors. A chandelier overhead bathed everything in a pleasant golden glow as Hermione glanced briefly into the mirror to her left, which was framed in an ornate black. To her right was a painting of a ship, dipping and rolling on the high seas, the tiny painted sailors pulling on ropes and clinging to the rigging for dear life. 

At the end of the hall was a large, almost floor-length window that Hermione at first assumed was an aquarium. But as she walked closer to it, she saw that it was a window looking into the Black Lake, schools of fish swimming past, chased by a Grindylow that paused at the window to leer at her. 

Four doors led off the entryway, three on the right and one on the left. Pansy waved her through the left-side door first, showing her into a large airy room that wasn't dissimilar to the Gryffindor common room. A cream settee was positioned under a corner window with more views into the lake - this view was of the mer-dwellings at the heart of the lake, great fronds of kelp and other plants rippled in the water, seeming to wave at her. 

Turning back to the room, Hermione noted the thick storm-grey carpet and large brick fireplace that almost took up an entire wall. Wood and kindling was neatly piled in stacks nearby, along with a well polished assortment of brass fire tools. Hermione eyed the intricate green hearth rug with interest, noticing that the design wasn't purely artistic flair; runes were woven into the rug and she wondered at that; she would translate them later, probably. Twin black recliners and a coffee table were centred in the room; a black and silver crocheted blanket was thrown over the back of one chair. 

Pansy waved her through an arched doorway leading into another room, off the large living room. Hermione sighed happily on entering the second room; this was what she'd really been looking forward to, what had tempted her the most… Her very own personal library. Books filled the room, covering every wall in rows from floor to ceiling. There was a low table off to one side with several stacks of books piled on it, atop a thick burgundy rug that seemed to cushion her very footsteps as Pansy led her across it to a small alcove that housed a narrow spiral staircase that led to an upper level. 

Hermione's knees were aching by the time she reached the top; six years of one-hundred-and-forty-two Hogwarts staircases could be hard on the joints. More books filled this room, with large mahogany desks along one wall, a small wood-heater, a floor-to-ceiling cupboard well-stocked with snacks and boxes of tea, a chest filled with cool drinks that had been enchanted with a permanent cooling charm, and a shiny red stovetop kettle that could be placed on the wood-heater for making tea while studying. Hermione couldn't contain the rapturous expression of joy that crossed her face; this room was all she had ever dreamed of. 

But Pansy wasn't done with the tour, leading Hermione back down the spiral staircase, through the library and living room to the entry-hall, where three doors were still unopened. 

Pansy led her through the first; a bathroom of marble and glass, with a large shower, pristine toilet and a basin on a wall length counter, complete with mirror, and in the corner, beneath a shelf stocked with top of the line bath products, was a large spa bath with gold serpentine taps. 

"Wow," Hermione murmured, speaking for the first time since the tour had started. "It makes the Prefect bathroom look small. Why aren't these rooms used more?" she added, glancing at Pansy. 

"Well, they're traditionally reserved for the Head Boy and Girl, Granger. Every House has rooms like it. But Slytherin hasn't had a Head Boy or Girl in a long time. Dumbledore insists on picking _Gryffindors_ ," Pansy grimaced. "So Mr Malfoy pulled some strings with the School Governors to get access from what I've heard." 

Hermione nodded, trying not to be awestruck by the luxurious living space; and it was all hers. She could hardly believe it. Her sense of awe slightly tempered her irritation that 'Hogwarts: A History' had failed to make a mention of these rooms. But then, the book had only contained the barest of facts on the Chamber of Secrets; it was in desperate need of a rewrite, Hermione mused.

"Just your room left," Pansy announced, leading Hermione back into the entry-hall and opening the next door. 

A large queen bed was positioned against one wall, topped with a snow-white comforter and a silver-grey blanket was folded at the foot of the bed. A mirror leaned against the wall on a bureau of dark wood, beside a broad window-seat with another underwater view. A storm-grey carpet covered the floor, identical to the one in the living room. Side-tables were positioned on either side of the bed. Hermione's trunk was set squarely against the opposite wall. And on top of the trunk, curled up on a velvet cushion, was Crookshanks, who opened one eye to squint up at Hermione, then promptly went back to sleep, seeming to be perfectly at home already. 

Hermione shook her head at him, smiling, before following Pansy back into the entry-hall. 

"Well, that's everything, so I'll leave you in peace," Pansy declared, heading for the toad portrait. 

"But, you didn't show me what's in that room," Hermione said with a frown, gesturing at the door next to hers. 

"You don't need to go in there," Pansy said dismissively. 

"Why not?" Hermione said curiously. 

"Well, I'm not saying you _can't,_ but I wouldn't," Pansy said with a shrug. "Draco's a very private person, kind of particular about his personal space." 

"Wh-- _what_?" Hermione stammered, her earlier feelings of dread returning to her all too quickly.

"You didn't think Mr Malfoy went to all the bother of getting these rooms _just_ for you, did you?" Pansy said incredulously. 

_No, no, no,_ Hermione's mind screamed at her, anxiety clawing at her chest. She was going to be trapped here until the end of the year. Trapped with Draco who hated her. Trapped with Draco who took every opportunity to call her a Mudblood. Trapped with Draco _fucking_ Malfoy, please, Merlin, no … 

"No, of course not," Hermione managed, feeling like an idiot. 

"Well, see you round, Granger," Pansy shrugged, pushing the portrait open and disappearing into the corridor, presumably to return to the Slytherin common room. She hadn't been _too bad,_ Hermione supposed. The Slytherin had managed not to outright insult her or mention her Muggle parentage for nearly an hour.

_Slytherin,_ Hermione thought with a grimace. Ron had been right. She wasn't _near_ the Slytherins, she was practically _with_ them. Across the hall from Slytherins. _Living_ with a Slytherin. She missed Gryffindor House already … 


	6. Warding and the Wounded

Hermione woke late the next morning with an empty stomach and an anxious mind. She had missed dinner and then tossed and turned all night, torturing herself with unanswered questions. 

Those same questions still played on her mind now as she made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast, though one question lingered more than the others: _should she answer Lucius Malfoy's letter?_

It would be the polite thing to do, perhaps even the right thing to do, considering he had been showering her with money and gifts, in thanks for saving Draco's life. Hermione rolled her eyes at the idea. As if Lucius Malfoy could somehow buy his son's health back … She paused, not liking what that thought implied. _Did Lucius Malfoy think he could buy her?_ She frowned, thinking hard. 

Something Harry had told her Arthur Weasley had said to him once came drifting to the fore of her mind.

_"Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years … Gets him in with the right people … Then he can ask for_ _favours._ _"_

_Favours?_ Hermione frowned. What possible favour could Mr Malfoy even ask of her? She was nothing to him, just a silly little Mudblood. … A silly little Mudblood who happened to be one of Harry Potter's best friends. Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, she reminded herself. If he got to Harry through her … she would never forgive herself. 

No, she decided. She wouldn't answer the letter. There would be no communication, no connections and absolutely no favours, ever. These things Lucius was doing for her were _gifts._ She didn't owe him anything, she told herself firmly. It was in fact he and Draco who owed _her_ something: a life debt. She wanted it gone almost as badly as they did. If the life debt was dealt with, then this whole unsettling situation went away. She would speak to Professor Snape about it as soon as possible and find out how to get rid of the damn thing, she decided, as she took a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Neville. 

"Morning, Hermione," Neville yawned, passing her a stack of toast. 

Hermione took one with a grateful smile, covering her piece of toast in peanut butter and glancing up the table to where Ron sat with Harry. 

Her eyes met Ron's and he sent a glare her way. Still mad then, Hermione thought with a sigh. 

"They miss you," Neville observed. 

"What?" Hermione said distractedly, nearly knocking over the jug of pumpkin juice. 

"They miss you," Neville repeated. "I talked to them last night." 

Hermione sighed and looked down at her plate, her appetite having fled. 

"They've got a funny way of showing it," she muttered.

"Harry's scared of losing people," Neville said quietly. "After his mum and dad and then Sirius Black last year … and Ron--" he hesitated. "He'll come round." 

"Hope so," Hermione said grimly, sipping at her pumpkin juice. 

"We'll be late for Runes. We should go soon," Neville said anxiously. 

"Okay," Hermione agreed, abandoning her untouched toast immediately and swinging her bag over her shoulder. 

* * *

By the time Hermione and Neville made it to the Ancient Runes classroom on the sixth floor, they were indeed late, as Neville had predicted. 

Professor Babbling looked up from her desk with a frown as they entered. 

"Slept in, Longbottom? Miss Granger?" she said sternly, although her eyes sparkled with humour. 

She wasn't a terribly strict disciplinarian, which was one of the reasons Neville had continued with Ancient Runes. Some of the other professors, like McGonagall and Snape, frightened him with their sternness, particularly as he was naturally timid and shy. 

"Well, since everyone else already has a partner, and you were late, you two will have to pair up today," Professor Babbling said, as they nodded and took their seats. 

"Now, to today's lesson," she said, striding to the front of the classroom. "One of the most practical uses for runes is the magical art of warding. Who can tell me what that is?" 

Hermione's hand shot into the air but Terry Boot was quicker, and he flashed a grin at her. Hermione and he regularly competed in classes, though they only had Ancient Runes and Arithmancy subjects together. 

"Magical warding is the art of protective charms that are used to defend a designated area for an extended period of time," Terry answered. 

"Correct, Mr Boot," Professor Babbling said with a smile. "Ten points to Ravenclaw. Now, while some warding takes the form of protective charms in the form of disillusionment or shield spells, another method of warding is through the use of runes. Does anyone know why we might use runes instead of a charm?" 

Hermione's hand was first this time and she smirked triumphantly at Terry as she answered. 

"Runic warding is stronger and more permanent than a warding charm, as runes may be linked to more than one source - the warder's magic, a family bloodline, lunar phases, seasons, or the land itself. Whereas a charm is tied to the caster's magic only and can therefore be broken if the caster is defeated or dies or their magic is weakened," Hermione replied. 

"Well answered Miss Granger, and entirely correct," Professor Babbling told her. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, for today's lesson, we are going to be practicing some runic warding. In your pairs, you will be coming up with some runes that you think would best protect an area from intruders. In this case, flesh eating slugs and other pests that have been getting into Professor Hagrid's garden. He has kindly agreed to allow each of you to test your warding skills around a section of his pumpkin patch during next Thursday's lesson. So, divide into your pairs, get out your textbooks and start brainstorming," she instructed them. "I want to see at least four runes from each pair by the end of the lesson." 

A low hum of chatter broke out in the classroom as the students started work on their new project. 

"What do you think?" Neville asked Hermione, paging through his textbook. 

"Well, protection is obviously the primary goal. Keeping the pests out," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Maybe warding tied to the land itself for long-term pest control?" 

"But garden pests have their own role too," Neville pointed out. "They help with the breakdown of organic matter and serve as a food source for other creatures. When they die, their bodies become nutrients that enrich the soil and help the garden to grow." 

"So, maybe seasonal warding?" Hermione said. "Something that allows the plants to grow uninhibited, but also allows the pests to come in after harvest and get the soil ready for the next growing season?" 

"Exactly," Neville agreed, skimming the next page for a particular rune he had in mind. 

When the lesson was almost over, Professor Babbling came around to check their work, making comments here or there and suggesting improvements. 

When she reached Neville and Hermione's table, she looked curiously at the rune combination they had selected. 

" _Algiz_ and _eihwaz_ ," Professor Babbling said with a nod, _protection_ and _defence_. Logical, if a little predictable, she thought, looking over their design. 

" _Gebo_ and _berkana_?" the professor said quizzically. 

" _Partnership_ and _growth_ ," Hermione explained. "See, Neville had the idea to make it seasonal protection, so--" 

"So the plants would be protected during the growing season," Professor Babbling surmised. "...reaching their maximum potential, and after harvest--"

"The wards would lower, allowing the pests to return and feed on the leftover organic material, enriching the soil for the next growing season," Neville said, quietly proud of himself. 

"I like it," Professor Babbling declared. "Well thought out, Mr Longbottom. Very well thought out indeed. In fact, twenty points to Gryffindor," she decided. "Very well done." 

Neville flushed crimson under her rare praise, just as the bell rang, signalling the end of the lesson. 

He and Hermione packed up their books and went into the corridor for break, just in time for Hermione to collide with another sixth year, knocking him to the floor. 

"Sorry!" Hermione said immediately, turning to help him up, before recognising his white-blond hair and grey eyes. Draco Malfoy was back. 


	7. Mortal Once More

Hermione stood frozen, staring down into those grey eyes for what seemed an eternity. She waited for him to speak. Waited for him to scowl. Waited for the hateful glare that he usually reserved just for her. Waited for him to hurl the dreaded word at her. Waited for him to call her _Mudblood_ … 

But it didn’t come. 

Instead she saw something else reflected in his eyes as their gazes connected. _Fear._

Her eyes drifted down to his chest wondering if any marks from the _Sectumsempra_ curse lay concealed beneath his robes. 

Draco got slowly to his feet, handed her the copies of _Advanced Rune Translation_ and _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ that she had dropped, and then brushed past without a word or a backwards glance, disappearing into the crowd mingling in the corridor as dozens of students milled about, released on lunch-break. 

Hermione stared after him, perplexed. In the six years she had known him, she couldn't remember Draco ever having ignored her. He had never missed a single opportunity to insult her or establish his own superiority. 

"What was that?" Neville said, echoing Hermione's sentiments exactly. 

Hermione shrugged and shook her head; she didn't understand Draco's silence either. She was pretty sure life debts didn't prevent him from voicing his low opinion of her. So, what the _hell_ had that been? 

"Come on, let's get an early lunch," Hermione suggested, heading for the stairs. 

She had no explanation for Draco's odd behaviour as she helped herself to a bowl of pea and ham soup, determined to push thoughts of the Slytherin to the back of her mind. 

* * *

Unfortunately, it was easier said than done, Hermione realised, as she returned to the dungeons in the afternoon, her mind far from potions. 

She knocked on Professor Slughorn's door, suppressing a sigh as he opened it and ushered her inside. _It's almost the weekend_ , she reminded herself as she strode to her desk to complete her Polyjuice Potion from the previous lesson. Just one more day and then she could spend Saturday and Sunday in hibernation mode; just tea and books and--

"Malfoy?" Hermione said in surprise. 

His blond head whipped around; he seemed quite easily startled, but Hermione noted the apprehensive look in his eyes too, before he quickly returned his attention to his cauldron. 

"Now, now, Miss Granger," Professor Slughorn said reprovingly. "Mr Malfoy is here to catch up on Wednesday's lesson. Mind you don't disturb him," he said, wagging a finger at her. "Your potion shouldn't take long to finish off," he added, wandering back to his desk. 

The professor was right, Hermione realised, glancing at the blackboard where the brewing method for Polyjuice was still written in Slughorn's tiny cursive. It wasn't easy to read; no wonder Harry had struggled, Hermione mused as she carefully measured one scoop of Slughorn's pre-stewed lacewing flies and prepared to add them to her cauldron which was still bubbling away. 

She fixed her eyes on Slughorn's clock. The lacewing flies couldn't be added until it had been precisely twenty-four hours, and she was still a few minutes shy of that mark. 

Her eyes flickered to Draco as she waited. He sat bent over his cauldron, evidently deep in concentration. 

Slughorn coughed softly and Hermione returned her attention to the clock, which was interesting enough, just not as interesting as Draco's changed manner toward her. 

_The clock, focus on the clock,_ she reminded herself. She wasn't about to mess up this potion just because Draco had suddenly decided to show some modicum of restraint in choosing not to insult her for once. 

The clock chimed the hour and Hermione added the scoop of lacewing flies to the cauldron, watching as the potion hissed and changed colour slightly. 

She gripped her ladle in her hand and dipped it into the potion, making three counter-clockwise stirs before setting the ladle aside and waving her wand over the mixture. 

There, it was finished, she thought with relief. She filled a vial with the thick mud-like potion for Slughorn to test for consistency and potency. She had achieved top marks in Potions this term, second only to Harry, who had become Slughorn's little potions prodigy with the help of the Half Blood Prince's book. 

Satisfied that she had produced a textbook potion, Hermione returned to her desk and packed up her things, vanishing the remains of her potions mixture and rinsing her ladle and measuring cup in the sink. 

She gave Draco a fleeting glance as she left, but he didn't look up, so she closed the door quietly behind her and made her way back to the suite behind the toad portrait, deciding to put some time into Professor Snape's essay on the effects of the Cruciatus curse before dinner. 

* * *

Hermione yawned and stretched, rolling her neck until it cracked satisfactorily. Her essay was almost done. She just needed a bibliography and to double and triple check her references before she handed it in to Snape. He was particularly eagle-eyed for fault in his students, and Hermione had never disappointed him with the quality of her work yet. She definitely wasn't about to start now. 

Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she'd only had a sip of pumpkin juice and some soup today. She needed to eat a decent meal tonight, she thought, heading for the toad portrait, intending to go to the Great Hall and find some dinner. 

But as she reached it, the portrait slid aside to reveal Draco. 

_Third time today,_ Hermione thought with a grimace as Draco froze, and then turned around, as if he intended to go back the way he'd come. 

"Stop, just stop," Hermione said wearily, catching his arm. She was fed up with him avoiding her. Anything was better than this pathetic game. "For Merlin's sake. Get in here before I strangle you, Malfoy," she said threateningly. 

He raised his eyebrows at her, but followed her inside without a word. 

"Why won't you look at me or _speak_ to me?" she demanded, glaring at him. 

"Nothing to say," Draco muttered, avoiding her eyes. 

"Nothing?" Hermione repeated. "Not even _thank you_?" 

"Pretty sure my father covered that," he said, still not looking at her. 

"What - your father sends me a letter and a necklace and you think we're good now?" Hermione said sarcastically. 

"No, it's never that easy, is it?" Draco said bitterly. "Wait, what letter?" 

"The--the letter," Hermione said confusedly. "He sent it when you were in the hospital wing. He didn't tell you?" 

"My father," Draco said stiffly, "told me two things in the thirty seconds he spent visiting me." 

"And what were they?" Hermione asked. 

"Show me the letter and I'll tell you," Draco offered. 

"Fine," Hermione agreed, retrieving the letter and the necklace from her bag and handing them to him. 

"Ah-ah," she said, halting him when he started to unfold the letter. "Tell me what these two things were that he said first, then you can read it." 

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. 

"He _said_ , that I'm a disgrace to our House, invoking a life debt and needing to be rescued by a-- by a--" he paused, seeming reluctant to say the word that usually fell so easily from his lips. 

"By a _girl_ ," Hermione said, glaring. 

"Sure. If you like," Draco said stiffly. 

"And the other thing?" Hermione prompted him. 

"He _ordered_ me to refrain from insulting or offending you. He was going to smooth things over, so you didn't decide to … call in the debt _early_ or anything _._ " 

"What does that mean? Call in the debt?" Hermione asked curiously. 

"You have no idea how this magic works do you?" He replied cynically as Hermione shook her head slowly. "Well, it's not in your textbooks, I suppose." 

"Yeah, I discovered that already," Hermione told him. 

"Can I read this now?" Draco asked, waving the letter impatiently. 

"Fine," Hermione sighed impatiently. She wasn't letting him leave until he explained what calling in the debt meant. 

Draco's frown deepened as he read the letter. By the time he reached the end, he looked disgusted. 

"Pulling out all the stops then, Father," he muttered. 

"What?" Hermione said, watching his face darken with a scowl. 

"Nothing. Those were _my_ business shares," he said sourly. 

"You can have them back," Hermione offered immediately. "Honestly, I don't care…" 

Draco shook his head. 

"No, they're a _gift_ apparently," he said, his lips twitching. "Here, you should wear this too," he suggested, unclasping the chain of the necklace and holding it out to her. 

"Don't tell me this is also yours," Hermione said with a smirk, eyeing the chain and heavy gold locket, inlaid with tiny emeralds in a glittering, serpentine S. She had assumed it was just a large pendant earlier and hadn't really given it a close look. 

"Not really my taste," Draco said, as Hermione turned around so he could secure the chain around her neck. "Suits you though," he murmured, as the locket settled against Hermione's chest; a wave of cold settling over her at the feeling of the metal on her skin. 

"Well, I was going to go get dinner," Hermione said, gesturing at the portrait. 

"Have fun," Draco said with a forced smile. 

"Sure. We're not done talking about this life debt thing though," she said warningly. "You're going to tell me whatever you know about it when I get back." 

"Can't wait," Draco said sarcastically, watching her go and resenting his father's games already. 


	8. Stubborn As A Mule

They were watching her. Following her every move. Her whole body shook as fear clawed at her chest, making it hard to breathe. 

She stumbled down the corridor, running as fast as her legs could carry her. She needed to get to Harry. She had to tell him something important. 

She rounded the corner, but it was a trap. And she'd run right into it. Eyes. Bright yellow eyes. She stared into them, transfixed by their depths. 

Something was wrong. She was burning and freezing at the same time. She couldn't move, it was as if someone had cast a full body bind curse on her, rendering her paralysed, rooted in place. There was no escape. 

She tore her eyes away from the intensity of that yellow glare, but then more eyes appeared. Red eyes. A snake-like face leering at her in the darkened corridor. 

Then more of them materialised. Red eyes and snake-faces surrounding her in a mirage of a thousand eyes, all staring into her soul. 

A scream tore from her throat as Hermione woke, gasping for air. Red eyes still glared at her. The locket snake's eyes glowed in the darkness of the room. 

_"Lumos!"_ Hermione cried, snatching up her wand from the bedside table. 

Light flooded the room as Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. No eyes, red or yellow. But the locket … a trick of the light she supposed. An after-image of her nightmare maybe. 

A knock came at the door. 

"Granger?" a voice called. 

"Come in," Hermione replied, her voice shaking a little. 

Draco's grey eyes met hers as he hovered awkwardly in the doorway, scanning the room for an attacker. 

"I thought I heard--" he faltered. "Are you … alright?" he asked hesitantly. 

"Just a dream," Hermione muttered, gripping the locket tightly just to have something to do with her hands. "Sorry if I woke you." 

"I was already up. I-- I have dreams too," Draco admitted, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and frowning as though he hadn't meant to tell her that. 

"What do you dream about?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself. "Sorry," she added quickly, seeming to realise it was a very personal question. "You don't have to--" 

"Drowning," Draco answered, a haunted look coming to his eyes. "Drowning in my own blood." 

* * *

"Not hungry this morning, Hermione?" Neville asked. 

Hermione's head jerked up immediately. 

"Sorry, what?" she asked tiredly. 

She hadn't had much sleep last night, unable to face the darkness of her room again after her nightmare. Glancing over at the Slytherin table, she noticed Draco hadn't come to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

There was another conspicuous absence in the room too - Professor Dumbledore. Hermione could only assume he was busy with the Order or perhaps off seeking clues as to the whereabouts of one of Voldemort's horcruxes, Harry having successfully provided him with incontrovertible proof of their existence a fortnight ago in the form of Professor Slughorn's true memory. 

"Never mind, I'll do it. You look really tired today," Neville observed, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes, as he buttered her toast for her, topping it with some scrambled eggs and a sprig of parsley. "Salt and pepper?" he asked. 

"No, that's fine, thanks," Hermione mumbled, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice. 

"What classes have you got today?" Neville asked, watching Hermione start on her eggs. 

"Just Transfiguration," Hermione replied. "I've got the afternoon off. We could work on our warding design for Runes later, if you like," she offered. 

Neville nodded thoughtfully. "Sure, I've just got that diagram of the Venomous Tentacula to finish for Professor Sprout. And we've got the Quidditch Final this weekend. Should be a good match."

"Should be," Hermione nodded, privately wondering how the Gryffindor team would fare without Harry playing. His Saturday detentions with Snape were due to start tomorrow and she could only guess at whatever torment Snape had in mind for him as punishment for the _Sectumsempra_ incident. 

* * *

Hermione joined the queue of sixth years waiting outside Professor McGonagall's classroom and stifled a yawn as the Transfiguration professor appeared and allowed them to file into the room. 

Hermione made to sit in her usual seat, but Ron blocked her path and threw her a challenging look. 

"This seat is saved," Ron told her. "That one too," he added when Hermione tried to step around him. 

Hermione glared at him. It had been _days_ for Merlin's sake, and it hadn't been her fault to begin with. 

"Move, Ronald," Hermione said crossly, too tired for his immature games. 

"Make me," he said tauntingly. 

Hermione's wand was in her hand almost before she knew what she was doing. 

"You won't," Ron said confidently, barely sparing her wand a glance, though he did look over his shoulder for Professor McGonagall, who was busy with the blackboard. "You're too scared of breaking rules. Face it Mione, you'll always be a goodie two sh--" 

" _Asinufors_ ," Hermione muttered, the incantation leaving her lips without conscious thought. 

Professor McGonagall turned around just in time to spot a large brown donkey that was standing precisely where Ron Weasley had been a moment ago. 

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, her eyes flashing as the donkey brayed indignantly. "What is that?" 

"Looks like an _ass_ to me, Professor," Draco called from the back of the room, as Pansy dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

Hermione's lips twitched, but Professor McGonagall did not look amused. 

"Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention tomorrow night, Miss Granger. Mr Malfoy can join you. I do not tolerate such blatant disrespect for the magical arts in my classroom," she said sternly, reversing Hermione's spell with a wave of her wand. 

Ron Weasley reappeared, looking furious. 

"Now, everyone take your seats. _Away_ from Mr Weasley," she added, as Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes and moved to the back of the room. Pansy and Theo made room for her at their table, while Draco and Blaise grinned. 

Hermione shook her head with a smile and set her textbooks on the table, trying hard to focus on what Professor McGonagall was saying about today's lesson, though she had to work hard to restrain herself from smirking every time she looked up and saw Ron's ginger hair. He wouldn't forget this in a hurry. 

Unfortunately, neither would Professor McGonagall. When the bell rang, dismissing the class, she called Draco and Hermione to her desk. 

"You can serve your detentions at seven p.m. tomorrow evening. My office," she instructed them, as Hermione nodded, trying hard to look apologetic. It wasn't helped by the feeling of Draco beside her, shaking with silent laughter as he strove to keep his face impassive. 

"Nice one, Granger," he grinned, once they were safely in the corridor outside. 

"Shut-up," Hermione said, though she smiled as she watched him walk away and rejoin the Slytherins. 

Hermione's transfiguration of Ron seemed to have won her some points with Pansy, however, as the Slytherin promptly invited her to join them for lunch. 

Hermione's surprise must have shown on her face, as Pansy quickly amended her invitation. 

"One time only, of course. Unless you teach me that spell," she said with a wink. 

"I could do that," Hermione said hesitantly. "For _study,_ of course." 

"Of course," Pansy agreed. "Won't I need a practice target though?" she asked wickedly, her dark eyes finding Ron in the crowd. 

Hermione couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. These Slytherins were a bad influence. Very bad indeed … 


	9. Rooms and Ravenclaws

Hermione woke early on the morning of the Quidditch Final, her ears detecting the faint _click_ of Draco's door closing. She lit her wand and checked her watch, frowning at the discovery that it was only a little after five a.m. She squinted in the brightness of her lit wand and pondered her options. She could stay here or … 

She never even considered the first option as she quickly changed into jeans and a black t-shirt and slipped quietly out her door, just in time to see the portrait close behind Draco. Where was he off to at five in the morning? 

" _Indespecto,"_ she murmured, casting a disillusionment charm over herself and following him at a distance. She was fairly certain that she knew where he was going anyway. 

Sure enough, she followed Draco to a certain seventh floor corridor where he began to pace back and forth before a stretch of blank wall, opposite a tapestry of ballet dancing trolls. 

_The Room of Requirement,_ Hermione sighed. This was the mystery that had obsessed Harry for months. Nobody knew what Draco was doing inside the Room, but she was determined to find out, darting after him and slipping through the door just in time. 

Her eyes widened in astonishment as she saw the aisles of collected objects, all hidden in the Room by generations of past students. 

Draco was already making his way down one of the aisles and Hermione followed, wondering what was so important in this Room that Draco felt the need to keep coming back to it all year. She highly doubted he was here to start an illegal defence group. 

Hermione frowned in confusion when Draco stopped in front of a black Vanishing Cabinet and drew his wand. He picked up a book from a pile of nearby objects and aimed his wand carefully.

" _Avifors,"_ he said, transfiguring the book into a little canary that tweeted happily as he picked it up. 

" _Please,_ work this time," she heard him whisper pleadingly as he placed the bird inside the Vanishing Cabinet and closed the door. 

_"Harmonia nectere passus_ ," he chanted.

Hermione watched curiously, wondering what the spell was supposed to achieve. It wasn't one she had heard or read about before. 

Draco opened the Vanishing Cabinet again and Hermione stared. The little bird was gone. 

But Draco wasn't finished. He closed the Cabinet door and aimed his wand at it again. 

_"Harmonia nectere passus_ ," he chanted. Then he repeated the spell again. _"Harmonia nectere passus_." 

The doors opened with a creak to reveal the bird. It was dead. 

Draco picked it up and cradled it in his hands, sinking to the floor in front of the Cabinet. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm trying, Mother," he murmured, looking so heartbroken that Hermione felt as if she were intruding on a private moment and turned to leave. 

But in her haste, she knocked a silver goblet from a nearby pile, watching helplessly as it clattered loudly to the floor. 

Draco was on his feet in seconds, wand drawn, grey eyes glancing around for the intruder. 

"Who's there?" he called suspiciously. 

Hermione hesitated; now she'd done it, she thought regretfully. 

"It's just me," she said, cancelling her disillusionment charm. 

"Granger," Draco said in surprise. He didn't lower his wand. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded. 

"Following you," Hermione answered. "What are _you_ doing in here? What are you doing with _that?"_ she added, nodding at the Vanishing Cabinet. 

"I can't tell you," he said quietly. "Nobody's supposed to know. If anyone finds out--" 

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Hermione promised. 

"I can't take that risk," Draco said regretfully, aiming his wand at her chest. 

"What are you going to do, Malfoy?" Hermione said, gripping her own wand tightly. 

"I have to Obliviate you," he replied, his wand hand shaking. "I don't have a choi--" 

" _Expelliarmus,"_ Hermione cried, catching Draco's wand with her free hand. 

"You were saying?" Hermione said fiercely. "Tell me what you're doing right now or I go straight to McGonagall. I'll tell Dumbledore, Harry, _everyone."_

"Please, don't," Draco said quietly. "She'll die if you do."

"Who?" Hermione asked. 

"My mother. I'm fixing the Cabinet. I have to save her from _Him._ It's the only way," Draco said desperately. 

Hermione paused, thinking about Harry's suspicions about Draco at the start of the year. 

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asked, glancing at Draco's left arm where the Dark Mark was concealed by his sleeve. 

"Yes," Draco admitted. 

"Have you killed anyone?" she asked, her breath catching in her throat. 

"No," Draco replied. 

"Are you going to?" Hermione asked, her eyes fixed on his. 

"I don't know," Draco said so quietly she almost didn't hear him. 

Hermione nodded, coming to a decision. 

"What are you going to do?" Draco asked, his tone filled with dread. 

Hermione sighed and bit her lip, looking at his pained expression and the hopelessness in his eyes. 

"I'm going to help you fix this Cabinet. I'm going to help you save your mother. And you're going to _let me,_ " she said, as a look of relief flooded Draco's face. "I'm not going to tell anyone. _Yet_. But when this is over, when she's safe, you're going to tell Dumbledore everything." 

Fear clouded Draco's expression for a moment, but he nodded in agreement. 

"Now," Hermione said bossily. "We're going to go get some breakfast, watch the Quidditch Final, and this afternoon, we'll go to the library and start researching how to fix this Cabinet." 

"Fine," Draco conceded. 

"No," Hermione said. " _Thank you, Hermione._ " 

"Thank you, Granger," Draco ground out through gritted teeth. 

" _Hermione,"_ she said insistently. "If I'm going to help you, we can at least be friends. My friends call me Hermione." 

"How about acquaintances? _Friendly_ acquaintances?" Draco offered, compromising. 

"They still call me Hermione," she said stubbornly. 

"Fine," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Lead the way, _Hermione_." 

* * *

It was windy on the Quidditch pitch as Hermione found a seat, joining Draco, Pansy, Theo and Blaise right at the very top of the stands. 

"Where's your scarf?" Hermione asked, watching Draco shiver a little in the wind. Although, whether it was because he was actually cold or merely to dramatically protest being here, she didn't know. 

"Don't have one," Draco muttered, rubbing his arms to warm himself up. 

"I have a spare," Hermione said, producing a Gryffindor scarf from the pocket of her robes. 

"I am not wearing _that_ ," Draco said flatly. "Red is a hideous colour." 

"Go Gryffindor," Hermione said with a laugh, pressing the scarf into his hands. 

"Go _Ravenclaw,_ " Draco corrected her, as Pansy tapped the scarf with her wand and muttered " _Colovaria!"_

Draco smirked when the scarf turned blue; now it looked as cold as he was. 

"Enabler," Hermione muttered as Pansy grinned. 

"Go Ravenclaw!" Draco and Pansy called, grinning smugly at Hermione as Ravenclaw scored the first goal of the match. 

"Just you wait," Hermione said stubbornly, though she couldn't help smiling. 

_Bloody Slytherins._


	10. Rituals and Regrets

Despite her resolve to help Draco, and the hours spent in the library over the weekend, painstakingly researching Vanishing Cabinets and methods of magical restoration, by the time Monday morning came, Hermione was still no closer to figuring out how to repair the Cabinet. Mr Borgin's spell was still the only means they had to repair it with.

It wasn't until Thursday's Ancient Runes class that inspiration finally struck. Hermione had just finished drawing the final rune in the damp earth around Hagrid's garden, while Neville double and triple-checked his textbook to be sure they had done everything right. 

"Well, that's a shame," Neville said regretfully. "Just another week or so and the warding would've been seven times as strong." 

"What are you on about?" Hermione asked, wiping her dirt-covered fingers on her robes. 

"It's Litha in about a week and a half," Neville explained. "Rune based magics are stronger at that time." 

"The Pagan holiday, you mean? The Summer Solstice?" Hermione said, not having given such things much thought. 

"It's a big deal in the old pureblood families," Neville shrugged. "My gran gets all the family to come around to do rituals and rune magic to heal the land, and repair any damage to the wards and protect the family for the rest of the year." 

Hermione nodded then froze, a startling thought having occurred to her. But it wasn't until after lunch that she had a free period in which to pursue that particular train of thought. She wolfed down her lunch with a speed to rival that of a starved Ronald Weasley, and then hurried to the library. She pulled every book she could find on Pagan Magic, Wicca, Runes and Rituals from the shelves, and settled in a corner to read; the answer to repairing the Vanishing Cabinet becoming clearer and clearer with every page she turned. 

By the end of the afternoon, a plan was beginning to form in her mind, and she walked slowly back to her room behind the toad portrait to retrieve her copy of _Ancient Runes Made Easy._

When Draco entered, he found her buried in books and notes, feverishly scribbling a combination of runes and numerology equations. 

"What's all this?" he asked, picking up a stray piece of paper covered with runes, the word 'Litha' scrawled across the top of the page. 

"This," Hermione said elatedly, "is how we're going to fix that Cabinet and save your mother." 

"How?" Draco asked, utterly perplexed by the pages of numbers, runes and what looked like an old Pagan ritual. 

"We only have until moonrise on the summer solstice," Hermione declared as Draco raised an eyebrow. What magical solution had Granger discovered? 

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Grang-- _Hermione?_ " Draco said, correcting himself and quailing a little under the withering glare she sent his way. 

"Yes," Hermione said stubbornly, adding more dried herbs to the burlap pouch. She and Draco had been robbing Professors Sprout and Snape of their dried herb stores for the last week. 

"It's just, _if_ you're wrong--" Draco said carefully.

Hermione glared at him. 

" _If._ I said _if._ " He added hastily.

"What's your point?" Hermione asked impatiently. 

"No point," Draco said, raising his hands in surrender. "I just-- I need this to work." 

"It will work," Hermione said confidently, tying the burlap bag shut and tossing it into the pewter cauldron they would be using. 

"Is that everything?" Draco asked. 

"Almost. I just need my notes and my mortar and pestle," Hermione said, crossing off a mental checklist. 

"We should go. Moonrise is in less than an hour according to your equations," Draco said. "If you're correct, that is." 

"I am, and so are my equations. Numbers don't lie," Hermione said firmly. "Grab the cauldron then," she added. Draco obeyed, grumbling. 

Litha, what the druids called Alban Heruin, or the Summer Solstice had arrived at last. The time had come to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, though neither Draco nor Hermione could have guessed what the outcome of the night would be. 

* * *

"What do you need?" Draco asked, eyeing the Vanishing Cabinet nervously. He was close now. So close to achieving the thing he'd worked all year for. 

"I have to grind the herbs first. You can pass me the ones I need," Hermione suggested, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Room of Requirement, the pewter cauldron in front of her and a mortar and pestle on her lap. 

"Okay," Draco sighed, trying to exhale his own nerves. "What first?" 

Hermione frowned and studied her notes before answering. 

"Okay, pass me four mugwort leaves, one vervain flower and one honeysuckle leaf," she instructed, watching as Draco carefully extracted the requested ingredients from Hermione's burlap pouch. 

Hermione ground the herbs carefully before consulting her notes again. 

"Now, two chamomile petals, four lavender flower heads and two ivy leaves," she said, allowing Draco to add the ingredients for her. Hermione ground and mixed them together, a pungent scent starting to rise. 

"Next, we need one yarrow leaf, two yarrow flowers, three fern spores and four leaves of wild thyme," Hermione said, studying her list. "Now we add six drops of essence of jasmine, eight drops of rose oil and ten drops of wisteria." 

Hermione tipped the mixture into the cauldron and knelt before it. 

"Ladle," she requested, holding out her hand for it. Draco handed it to her and she made seven clockwise stirs before raising her wand. 

" _Incendio!"_ she cried, orange flames licking the sides of the cauldron. Hermione waved her wand over the flames, and added five carnation flowers and six pine needles, as the flames turned violet. 

"The ritual chant, Draco," she said, holding out her hand for it. 

"I'll do it," he said, meeting her eyes. 

"If you're sure," Hermione said, stepping aside and indicating that he should take her place before the flaming cauldron. 

Draco stepped forward, wand raised. 

" _Diffindo,"_ he murmured, slicing his palm and allowing a few drops of his blood to fall into the cauldron, binding the ritual to himself, then beginning to read the chant over the cauldron. 

_"Lumen et ignis_

_Flexus canthus_

_Trutinor_

_Lumen et tenebris_

_Praeterita praesens relicum_

_Lumen et ignis_

_Cumulatus mea requaero,_ " Draco finished, waving his wand over the cauldron. 

Purple sparks flashed above the cauldron as the flames were extinguished, leaving a pile of smouldering ash. 

Hermione cast a cooling charm over the ashes as Draco wrapped a handkerchief around his hand, scooping up the still smoking ashes. 

"Runes next?" he asked. 

Hermione nodded, consulting the design she had spent hours poring over. " _Thurisaz, Dagaz, Sowilo, Raido, Laguz, Ehwaz, Kano, and Gebo,"_ she said, tracing the design with her fingertips. 

"In English?" Draco said, raising his eyebrows. 

"Just follow the design exactly," Hermione instructed. "Here, start with _Gebo - partnership._ Then _Kano - opening._ And here, _Ehwaz - movement._ Bring your hand up a little, _Laguz - flow._ Now come across and do _Raido - journey._ Then down, _Sowilo - wholeness._ On the far left, _Dagaz - breakthrough._ And last, _Thurisaz - gateway,_ " she finished, as Draco used the ashes to draw the runes she showed him on the Vanishing Cabinet. 

"Now what?" Draco asked, dusting the ash from his hands. 

"Activate the runes with the spell I showed you earlier," Hermione told him as Draco raised his wand and pointed it at the Cabinet. 

" _Aperio!"_ Draco cried, as the runes glowed gold. 

"Now Borgin's spell, three times," Hermione said, checking her watch. Moonrise was mere minutes away. Draco needed to complete the entire ritual _now._

" _Harmonia nectere passus,"_ Draco chanted, as the runes glowed red. " _Harmonia nectere passus,"_ he repeated, the runes glowing emerald green now. " _Harmonia nectere passus,"_ he said for the final time, as the runes glowed pale blue, a flash of white light engulfing the room. 

"Did it work?" Hermione asked anxiously. 

"Only one way to find out," Draco said, picking up Hermione's ladle. " _Avifors,"_ he muttered, transfiguring it into a canary. 

He opened the door of the Vanishing Cabinet, the runes still glowing as he closed the door. 

"Open sesame _,"_ Draco murmured with a small, hopeful smile, opening the door again. The bird was gone. So far, so good. 

He and Hermione exchanged a look as he nervously opened the door. A moment later, the little canary flew out, chirping away. 

"There goes my ladle," Hermione said with a rueful grin. 

"I'm sorry," Draco said grimly. 

"Don't worry, I can get a new one," Hermione laughed. 

"Not for that. For this," Draco said, swinging his first into the side of her head as Hermione fell to the floor, knocked out cold. 

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered, using his wand to tap five words into a contact Galleon. 

_All clear._

_Send them through._


	11. Whoops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A personal shout-out to the lovely Gcgraywriter. The inspiration for werewolf!Neville comes from her new fic - Get Knotted. It's a wonderfully angsty read - give it a look if you enjoy the Pansy/Neville pairing.

Hermione blinked awake slowly, a pounding pain filling her temples and gradually increasing. She groaned and slowly sat up, nausea filling her as she felt the sizable egg on her head from where Draco had struck her. 

What the hell had that been about? 

The door of the Vanishing Cabinet had been left open; Hermione's cauldron was right where she'd left it, sans ladle. Everything was as it was except for one thing: Draco was gone. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and got slowly to her feet. When she found him, she was going to feed him to the Giant Squid or Grawp, perhaps. Or maybe she'd try Pansy's idea and use him for target practice. 

She snatched up her wand and stalked to the door of the Room of Requirement, which had also been left open. Hermione wondered at that. It wasn't like Draco to be so careless. It was the first hint that something might be wrong, aside from the throbbing lump on her head, of course. 

As she entered the seventh floor corridor, sounds reached her ears. Bangs, yells, shouted curses, screams and a yell of pain … Something was very wrong, Hermione realised, swallowing a rising sense of dread as she gripped her wand more tightly and followed the source of the noise. 

Chaos met her eyes as she entered the corridor just below the entrance to the Astronomy Tower. Hooded and masked figures were locked in deadly battle with members of the Order, teachers and a few students from the DA. A pair of frightened dark eyes met Hermione's from a corner where a body was slumped unconscious on the floor. 

"Pansy," Hermione muttered, ducking and weaving through the many duels and falling in her knees beside her. "What happened?" Hermione asked. 

"Greyback," Pansy managed, raising her tear-stained face as the light of Hermione's wand revealed the bloodied features of the victim: Neville Longbottom.

Hermione felt horror fill her. It was a full moon and the most infamous werewolf in the world was loose in the castle. 

"Is he--?" Hermione asked, unable to finish the question. 

"He's alive," Pansy said, her voice shaking. "Bravest thing I've ever seen." 

Bill Weasley stepped out of the shadows where he'd been covering Pansy and Neville from stray spells. 

"He saved my life," he said grimly. "I owe him one hell of a life debt." 

_Life debt …_

The phrase seemed to trigger something in Hermione's memory and she turned back to Pansy. 

"Have you seen Draco?" she asked urgently. 

"Yeah," Pansy said quietly. 

"Where?" Hermione asked. 

"Astronomy Tower. He's-- he doesn't know what he's doing, Hermione," Pansy said tearfully. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find that idiot," Hermione muttered. 

"Hermione, there could be Death Eaters up there," Bill said warningly. 

"I'm counting on it," Hermione said grimly, as Neville stirred, shifting restlessly as he opened his eyes with a groan. 

"It's okay, you're okay," Pansy murmured, stroking his hair. 

"I'm not," Neville said, his tone slurred. His eyes widened as realisation sank in. "No… get away from me. You have to get away!" he said, panicking and trying to scramble away from Pansy and Bill. 

"Neville, calm down. We'll get you help," Bill promised. 

"No, no you won't," Neville said, his eyes wide with fear. "I can't-- I won't let you! I don't-- I can't be a _werewolf!"_

"Hermione, go find Draco. We've got this," Pansy promised, as Bill tried to reason with Neville. 

"It won't be fine!" was the last thing Hermione heard as she left the little group, slipping through a concealed door that she knew led to the top of the Astronomy Tower. She was going to hit Draco so hard, she would knock some sense into him, she decided, beginning to climb the stairs. 

* * *

Hermione reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, clutching a stitch in her side, her head pounding and legs aching. She had come to one decision in the time it had taken her to climb to the top: after she saved Draco from his own idiocy, she was going to kill him. 

But, as Bill had pointed out, it was best to know what she was walking into before she gave Draco a complete beatdown for being so stupid. She didn't know how or why, but Greyback and the Death Eaters were in the castle and Draco had played some part in it.

She paused, a thought niggling at her. Had they gotten in through the Vanishing Cabinet? If so, it was partly her fault for being so trusting. And for allowing Draco to use her … The thought was a bitter one and Hermione hated the way it felt. 

She had thought there was something between them, the beginning of a friendship perhaps, or even something more. But if she couldn't trust him … 

" _Homenum Revelio,"_ she murmured, waving her wand. Two floating balls of light returned to her within moments. One was Draco, she surmised. But who was the other?

Hermione twitched the tapestry aside carefully, surveying the scene unfolding in the room. Draco Malfoy was facing off against Albus Dumbledore. 

Hermione's heart hammered in her chest. If Dumbledore was here, where was Harry? She had run into him shortly after dinner, when he'd told her in a terrible rush that he was off to find a Horcrux with Dumbledore and to look after Ron if something happened. Yeah, she'd get right on that, she thought, rolling her eyes. But if something had happened to Harry ...

"-- I have given you every chance, Draco," Professor Dumbledore was saying, and Hermione's attention snapped back to the duo. 

"Go ahead," Draco sneered. "Tell me how disappointed you are in me. Not like I haven't heard it every day of my life from my father." 

"You think you're the only one with a difficult father, Draco?" Dumbledore said quietly. "My own father went to Azkaban when I was eleven years old, and I never saw him again." 

"I don't _care_ about your father," Draco said coldly. "You have no idea, _no idea_ what I-- what I've--" he said, his voice shaking. 

"I do. I am aware," Dumbledore said. "I am aware that Lord Voldemort has been residing at the Manor since his return. I am aware that he branded you into his service as punishment for Lucius' mistakes. I am aware that even after he restored Lucius to his old position of second-in-command, he did not forgive his failures. I am aware that he has threatened your mother with death should you fail him as your father has done." 

"If you're _so_ aware," Draco said angrily. "Why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you protect my mother? Protect _me?_ " 

"I did. I did do something," Dumbledore said calmly. "I gave you repeated chances to come to me for help, I enlisted Severus to watch you, I allowed your father to manipulate Miss Granger into being close to you. I had hoped she would prove a positive influence on you … As I said, I have given you every chance, Draco." 

"That's what you call _help?"_ Draco said scathingly. "Lurking in the background and using other people to try and manipulate me?" 

"I don't owe you anything, Draco. But still, I have helped. Unfortunately, my help has come to its end, as must you," the Professor said sadly. 

"What are you talking about?" Draco said, narrowing his eyes. 

"I can no longer _lurk in the background,_ as you have so accused me, and allow the students of Hogwarts to come to harm," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes glinting in the light of the Dark Mark above. "Your road has reached its end. Don't worry, the wizarding world will believe you died an innocent schoolboy, rather than the Death Eater I know you to be. Goodbye, Draco Malfoy," he said grimly, raising his wand. 

But scarcely had the Headmaster opened his mouth to cast a spell, when two incantations echoed through the top of the tower. 

" _Expelliarmus!"_

_"Protego!"_ Hermione cried, watching as Dumbledore's wand went spinning away, the force of her shield spell forcing the Professor over the edge of the Tower and out of sight; his body hitting the ground below with a muffled _thud_. 

Hermione fell to her knees, horrified at what she'd done. Draco looked equally shocked, not having been the one to cast the disarming charm. 

Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak, looking devastated. 

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked in surprise. 

"He told me to stay out of sight while he talked to Draco. I was supposed to go get Snape, but I couldn't leave," he explained. "Is he--?" 

"Yep," Draco said grimly, glancing over the edge of the Tower. 

"Oh _Merlin,"_ Hermione said, feeling sick. "What are we going to do?"

"Get out of here, that's what," Harry said firmly. "Malfoy, take Hermione and save your mother from Voldemort if you can." 

"Take me? Take me where? What about Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking. 

"Take you somewhere safe," Harry said quietly. 

"You think the Malfoys are safe?" Hermione said disbelievingly. 

"Safer than here. The Ministry will investigate. They'll figure it out eventually. My father owes you, he'll protect you," Draco said logically. 

"I don't like this," Hermione said nervously.

"You don't have to like it, just be safe," Harry said pleadingly. 

Hermione nodded, allowing Draco to lead her from the Tower and leave Harry behind. 

* * *

Hermione looked up at the imposing iron gates of Malfoy Manor for the first time, as a tall man with a pale snake-like face and gleaming red eyes came out to greet them. 

Hermione shuddered. All her nightmares couldn't have prepared her for this … 


	12. The Best Laid Plans

Hermione stared fearfully into Voldemort's pale, snake-like face. All of Harry's descriptions of Voldemort and all eighty-seven chapters of _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ couldn't have helped her envision the terror she felt in his presence. For the first time, she fully understood what Harry had meant when he'd told Dumbledore's Army what it was like to face Voldemort and know that you were a millisecond away from being killed or tortured. Her breath seemed to come in rapid, shallow gasps. Each one could be the last breath she would ever draw. Harry had been wrong. This idea was colossally stupid. It was brainless and foolish, bordering on the imbecilic.

"Draco, Draco … You have returned. In victory, I hope?" Voldemort said, a thin-lipped smile contorting his face, as he opened the wrought iron gate. 

Draco looked almost as nervous as Hermione felt as he approached Voldemort, dipping his head submissively, seeming afraid to look up at those gleaming red eyes. 

"Yes, my lord," he said, the faintest quiver in his voice. "He is dead, as you ordered." 

"And did you kill him? Yourself?" Voldemort asked. 

"No, my lord," Draco admitted, with a half-glance at Hermione. "She did," he said. 

"That Muggle loving fool was killed by a Mudblood?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes narrowing to slits as he looked disdainfully at Hermione. "You jest, Draco." 

"No jest, my lord. It's the truth," Draco said. "Her and Potter's spells both--" 

"Potter?" Voldemort repeated, his nostrils flaring. " _Harry Potter?_ " 

When Draco nodded, Voldemort laughed, a high, mirthless sound that rippled through the surrounding hedges and startled a pair of peacocks. 

"Lucius," Voldemort called when he had composed himself somewhat. "Lucius, quit lurking with those pestilential birds and _come_." 

Lucius Malfoy appeared out of the shadows barely a moment later. Relief showed on his face when he saw Draco, but Hermione thought she detected a flicker of fear when he met her eyes. 

"You called, my lord?" he said smoothly. 

Voldemort's lips curled into a ghostly smile. 

"I did. I thought you would like to know your son has returned--" 

"Most gracious of you to inform me, my lord," Lucius said immediately. 

"...and failed," Voldemort finished. 

"What, my lord?" Lucius said nervously. 

"Your son _failed_ ," Voldemort declared. "The task I gave him was completed by this Mudblood here and _Harry Potter._ What do you have to say about that, Lucius?" 

"I am most disappointed, my lord. Truly, I am astounded. But the task _was_ completed," he insisted. 

"By a Mudblood," Voldemort said coldly. 

"But your-- I mean _our_ objective was accomplished. It is the result that--that … counts," Lucius said, his voice trailing off under Voldemort's glare. 

"The ends justify the means, you think, Lucius?" Voldemort said quietly. 

"When the ends are so noble and high a calling as the purging of the unworthy and the inferior from our world, establishing a new world order … yes, my lord, I do," Lucius replied. 

"You're right. We should purge this unworthy Mudblood from our world," Voldemort mused, aiming his wand at Hermione who stood her ground, determined to die like a true Gryffindor. 

"My lord, I must protest," Lucius said immediately as Voldemort snorted derisively. 

"Really, Lucius? Isn't she a little young for you? Whatever will your wife say?" Voldemort asked. 

"Most amusing, my lord," Lucius said, managing a forced smile, while Hermione looked horrified. "But as unworthy and--and vile as I find this witch, House Malfoy is indebted to her for saving the life of my son and heir. If she were to die before the debt is repaid, the ramifications would sully my House for generations. This is the oldest magic, from the time of Merlin. Life debts have been honoured by the noblest of wizards with the purest of blood and the most powerful of magic. It is the most ancient of traditions and the most sacred of the High Laws and the Old Ways. I beg you not to dishonour our noble House. Kill her as our pure creed and new world order demands, but not _yet_ ," he said beseechingly. 

Voldemort paused, considering Lucius's argument. 

"I will grant you this favour and bestow this great mercy on your House on one condition, Lucius," Voldemort said softly. 

"Anything, my lord," Lucius promised. 

"When House Malfoy is cleared of any life debt, you will kill her--"

"Yes, my lord, of course," Lucius agreed. 

"Or the life of your son and only heir will be forfeit," Voldemort said coldly. 

"I understand, my lord," Lucius said grimly. 

"And you will swear it to me with an Unbreakable Vow," Voldemort added menacingly. 

"As my lord wishes," Lucius said obediently. 

"You understand the stakes, I am sure, Lucius?" Voldemort asked, his eyes gleaming. 

"Yes, my lord," Lucius said, nodding. "The Mudblood dies or my entire House does." 

"Very well, let us begin. Draco, you'll bond us. It is only fitting that your fate be tied to your father's. Fail me again and it will be the last time and the end of the Malfoy line," he said threateningly as Draco placed his wand over their linked hands. 

Hermione looked on, her heart thudding in fear as her life and Draco's were magically bound to that of Lucius and Lord Voldemort. 

* * *

"Father, can I have a word?" Draco asked. They were alone at last, the meeting with the Dark Lord and his Inner Circle having ended fifteen minutes ago. 

Narcissa had taken Hermione to show the Gryffindor her new room. Draco was thankful it wouldn't be the cellar with the other prisoners, but he wasn't fooled. Hermione _was_ a prisoner, and so was he. They were mere bargaining chips in a deadly game that the Dark Lord would inevitably win. 

"What is it now, Draco?" Lucius said tiredly. "More disappointments?" 

"More of a _development_ in the whole life debt thing," Draco said hesitantly. 

"Am I going to want to hear this?" Lucius asked grimly. 

"Probably not," Draco admitted. "But I think it might be important." 

"Get it over with then," Lucius said in a bored tone. 

"The thing is, earlier tonight, Dumbledore-- he was about to kill me. Potter and Granger saved me when they-- when _he_ died. I was just wondering if that meant …" Draco's voice trailed off uncertainly. 

" _Another_ life debt? And one with Potter too. _Potter?_ Of all the--" Lucius paused, an idea occurring to him. "If it could be invoked under mere threat of death, Miss Granger would owe _me_ a debt for intervening on her behalf earlier," he mused. "In any case, there are spells to check this sort of thing. I may look into that tomorrow. Just, keep it quiet," he said warningly, and Draco nodded. 

He missed the gleam in Lucius's eyes as he bid his father goodnight and retired for the evening. An idea had presented itself to Lucius Malfoy's shrewd mind. It occurred to him he may just have the means to save the future of his House and Miss Granger too. It was only a matter of manipulation and masterful puppeteering… 


	13. Bad News Travels Fast

Hermione woke late the next morning, dread overwhelming her before she'd even opened her eyes. She was half tempted to just stay in bed. What was the point of getting up at all? As soon as Draco found a way to repay the life debt, Lucius would kill her. There was no way he would choose to spare her and instead sacrifice himself and his son. Whichever way she looked at it, she was royally screwed. Her days were numbered. Saving Draco from the  _ Sectumsempra _ curse had sealed her fate. 

There was no way out. She had already tried to apparate out a dozen times the previous evening, but the entire Manor was secured with anti-apparition wards. She had given up in the end and fallen into an exhausted sleep. She was still exhausted now. She rolled over and would have gone back to sleep, except for the fact that she suddenly found herself face to face with the biggest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen. 

Hermione leapt up, falling out of the bed with a  _ thump  _ and a muffled shriek. 

"What in Merlin's name are you doing in here?" she demanded, scrambling to her feet. 

But the blue-eyed creature didn't answer her and ran straight at the wall. 

"Bad, Sassy!  _ Bad _ , Sassy! Sassy frightened master's guest! Bad! Very bad!" the little creature shrieked, ramming her head against the wall. 

"Stop! Stop!" Hermione cried, seizing her and dragging her away from the wall. 

The house elf trembled violently in Hermione's hold before going limp at last, her rapid heart rate slowing. 

"Sassy stops. Sassy stops," she promised. 

"Good," Hermione said with a sense of relief. "Now,  _ Sassy,  _ is it?" she asked, as the little elf nodded. "What are you doing in here?" 

"Master tells Sassy to help the guest get ready in the morning. So Sassy comes to help," the elf told her. 

"Get ready for what?" Hermione asked, that feeling of dread returning in full force. 

"Breakfast," Sassy replied. "Master and Mistress meet for breakfast every morning at eight. And Young Master too. Young Master is home now," Sassy said happily. 

"Thanks, Sassy. But I'm not really hungry," Hermione said with a sigh. 

The little elf seemed to pale at Hermione's refusal. 

"Master's guest must come to breakfast.  _ Please _ , come. Or Sassy will be punished. Master will punish Sassy severely," Sassy said nervously, her big blue eyes filling with tears. 

"But, it wouldn't be your fault," Hermione said slowly. 

"If Sassy fails Master's orders, Sassy will be punished," the elf said, taking a step towards the wall and looking pleadingly at Hermione. 

"Fine,  _ fine!"  _ Hermione said, throwing up her hands. "I'll come. I'll come to breakfast," she said grudgingly. 

Sassy clapped her hands excitedly, immediately dragging Hermione into the bathroom that adjoined her room and filling a tub for her. 

"I can do it myself," Hermione insisted, as Sassy levitated bottles of products toward the tub. 

The little elf's face fell, along with the bottles of luxury products. 

"Sassy will be punished," the elf said sadly. 

" _ Fine,  _ you can help," Hermione said, allowing the elf to shampoo and condition her hair, before presenting Hermione with green and black robes to wear to breakfast. 

Hermione grimaced at such Slytherin colours, but didn't dare refuse, lest the little elf be punished for her refusal, even allowing Sassy to style her hair for her. 

"Master's guest is ready," Sassy proclaimed proudly, looking over her handiwork as she led Hermione to the dining room. 

"Master's guest has a name," Hermione grumbled. 

Lucius looked up from reading his morning paper, while Narcissa poured a fresh cup of tea from an ornate china teapot.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Lucius said cordially, glancing up at her. 

"Morning," Hermione responded, hovering awkwardly at the opposite end of the table. 

"Take a seat, Miss Granger," Narcissa told her. "Draco will be down shortly. We don't normally eat together but Sassy insisted it was a special occasion - having a  _ guest _ here and Draco home again for the first time in months." 

"But," Hermione said, looking suspiciously at the elf, who pulled out a chair for her, indicating she should sit. "She told me she would be punished if I didn't--" 

"Sassy!" Narcissa exclaimed, quirking an eyebrow at the elf, who looked quite unabashed and merely settled a napkin across Hermione's lap. 

"Don't look at me, she's  _ your  _ elf, dear," Lucius said with a smirk. 

"Miss Granger," Narcissa began. "You should be aware that Sassy is--"

"A good elf!" Sassy interjected, flashing Narcissa a warning look as she began to heap bacon and eggs onto Hermione's plate. 

"A devious, conniving, manipulative, con-artist of an elf," Narcissa summarised, giving the elf a knowing smile. 

"Exactly," Sassy said smugly. "Sassy came highly recommended." 

"Don't let her trick you into doing things," Draco advised, as he entered the room and took a seat beside his mother. 

Hermione shook her head disbelievingly at the elf, who looked entirely unapologetic, moving to refill Lucius's coffee cup. 

Lucius murmured his thanks to the elf and set the paper down, allowing Hermione to glimpse the front page. Bile rose in her throat as she read the headline. 

**_MISSING MUGGLEBORN MURDER SUSPECT_ **

"May I?" Hermione asked Lucius, gesturing to his copy of the  _ Daily Prophet.  _

"Be my guest," he said, sliding the paper across the table. 

Hermione took the paper and began to read, her heart sinking like a stone. 

_ The wizarding world is reeling from the reports of Albus Dumbledore's death issued by Hogwarts School last night. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror Office are investigating claims of foul play after multiple eye-witnesses reported seeing student Hermione Granger fleeing the scene, moments after Dumbledore fell or was thrown from Hogwarts' tallest tower.  _

_ The search continues for the missing student, who is wanted for questioning by the Auror Office. Head Auror, John Dawlish, said Granger, who is suspected of murder, fled the school and surrounding grounds after the alleged killing. Aurors say they will work closely with the magical community to apprehend the missing suspect.  _

_ When Aurors arrived on the scene, Albus Dumbledore's body was found at the foot of the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, the Dark Mark having been set above the same tower. Headmaster Dumbledore was pronounced dead at the scene.  _

_ Aurors are requesting any witnesses with information regarding the whereabouts of Hermione Granger to come forward. Granger is considered armed and dangerous, and the Auror Office are cautioning members of the wizarding community against approaching the murderous Muggleborn who is believed to have ties to Dark Wizards. Granger is the former best friend of the Chosen One, Harry Potter, who was unavailable for comment. For the full interview with Potter's other best friend, Ronald Weasley, turn to page 4... _

Hermione set the paper down with a heavy sigh, her appetite long gone, along with her sterling reputation. 

She noticed Lucius was watching her closely and she strove to make light of it. 

"Going to turn me in to the authorities then?" she said half-heartedly. 

"Hardly," Lucius commented. "It wouldn't do for the magical community to know that we're harbouring a known fugitive. Imagine what that would do to the family reputation." 

Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for her now cold tea. Things couldn't possibly get any worse. She couldn't have been more wrong. 

Within minutes, Lucius would receive a letter advising him of a meeting of the Inner Circle in a week's time … a meeting that was soon to change Hermione's role in the war. 


	14. On the Sly

"Granger? Am I disturbing you?" Draco asked. 

"Yes," Hermione replied, glancing up from the book she was reading and narrowing her eyes at him. "And I thought we'd agreed you were going to call me Hermione." 

"That was before," Draco said awkwardly. 

"Before you realised you could use me," Hermione said bitterly. 

"No! I mean, I _did,_ but I meant … _Before_ … when we were-- I liked it when we were friends," Draco admitted quietly. 

"Did you?" Hermione said doubtfully, turning a page of her book and refusing to meet his eyes. "See, that's where we're different, Draco. I would never use my friends or lie to them or _betray_ them." 

"I-- I didn't _lie_ ," Draco stammered as Hermione threw him a furious look. 

"Really? Your mother doesn't look like she's in danger to me," Hermione said coldly. 

"She _was_ ," Draco said, starting to get a little angry himself. 

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?" Hermione said contemptuously. "Forget it, not like it matters now anyway," she added before Draco could say a word. 

"It _does_ matter," Draco said. "I don't want you to think that I'm-- that I don't care…" _'about you'_ he added silently, unable to say the words aloud. 

"Well, I _do_ think that," Hermione said, slamming the book shut and dropping it onto a nearby table. "Because thanks to you and your father, I have a death sentence on my head and I will probably never see my friends or my family again. So, yes, I _don_ 't think you care about me at all, because if you did--" her voice broke and she turned away, fighting the tears that formed at the corners of her eyes. She swiped at them angrily. She couldn't, _wouldn't,_ let Draco see her cry. 

"I do care and I'm _sorry._ I didn't mean for things to happen like this," he said regretfully. 

"I don't _care_ what you meant to happen. Your father is right - it is the _result_ that counts!" Hermione said furiously. "And this is the result, Draco: I am a prisoner in your house, my friends are out there fighting Voldemort alone and are likely to get themselves killed, and I'm stuck here waiting for this stupid life debt to expire so that your father can kill me too, because I made the mistake of caring about _you_ when you were bleeding to death on the floor!" 

"Did you?" Draco said quietly. 

"What?" Hermione snapped. 

"Did you do that because you cared about _me?"_ Draco said slowly. "Or were you just saving Potter's arse like usual?" 

"I did it because I cared about _you!"_ Hermione exclaimed. "I helped you with that stupid Cabinet because I cared about you! I went to the Tower that night because I cared so damn much!" she said, her eyes burning with anger and hurt and something else Draco couldn't define as his eyes met hers. 

Before he had the chance to second-guess himself, he closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a searing kiss, his fingers tangling themselves in her hair. Hermione kissed him back, clinging to him desperately, her lips parting for him as Draco angled his head and deepened the kiss. Everything about this moment felt so right, the feel of his mouth on hers, the way her body curled so perfectly around his, her faint fragrance of vanilla and jasmine filling his nostrils, the little breathy moans she made as his tongue explored her mouth… They just _fit_ together seamlessly, as if it was meant to be. 

Draco broke the kiss and pressed another sweet kiss to Hermione's forehead, lingering a little against her skin as he tried to get his breath back. 

"I care about you," he murmured, as Hermione shifted closer, resting her head against his chest. 

"I know," she replied. "I care about you too." 

She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes meeting his, silently pleading for another kiss, just one more moment like this. Draco was happy to oblige. 

* * *

"Miss Granger," Lucius said pleasantly, as Hermione entered his study. 

"You wanted to see me?" Hermione said nervously. 

Sassy had come to summon her "young miss" a few moments ago. Just one week at the Manor with the elf had changed a lot of Hermione's notions about the nature of the master/servant relationships that existed between wizards and elves. Sassy answered to no-one, they answered to _her._ Hermione and everyone else at the Manor had a deep respect and love for the fiesty little elf. But Sassy wasn't what Lucius wanted to talk to her about. 

"As you are aware, we are hosting _guests_ this evening," Lucius said smoothly. 

"If by guests, you mean Voldemort and his band of rich blood supremacists, then _yes,_ I'm aware," Hermione said coldly. 

Lucius narrowed his eyes but didn't disagree with her evaluation of his associates. 

"What you may not be aware of," Lucius said in a carefully neutral tone, "is that the Dark Lord has specifically requested your presence at the meeting." 

Hermione blanched. 

"What?" she exclaimed. "Why would he even want me there?" 

"It is beyond my comprehension, I'm afraid," Lucius said sarcastically. "The Dark Lord has not divulged his reasons to me, but his orders are clear." 

"Great," Hermione said grimly. She could only imagine what special torture the night would hold for her. "Is that all?"

"No, that is not all. Sit back _down,"_ Lucius said firmly. "You are to wear this tonight," he instructed, setting a fine chain and glass phial pendant on the desk between them. 

"Another necklace?" Hermione said, struggling not to roll her eyes. 

"A rather more useful necklace than the other," Lucius said quietly, noting the hint of gold beneath Hermione's collar.

"What's special about it?" Hermione asked, picking the necklace up. 

"The phial is imbued with a powerful Occlumency charm," Lucius explained. "You fill the phial with harmless surface thoughts and memories which act as a shield to Legilimency. Even an accomplished Legilimens will be unable to penetrate your mind while you wear the necklace and the phial remains intact." 

"You think Voldemort will try to read my mind?" Hermione guessed, trying to push aside the thought of what Voldemort would do if he discovered Harry and Dumbledore had discovered the secret of the Horcruxes. 

"That is how the Dark Lord operates. Trust is for foolish men, in his view," Lucius said delicately as Hermione frowned. Why was Lucius trying to help her protect herself from the Dark Lord? 

"I assume, correctly I think, that you are unschooled in the mind arts?" Lucius said, as Hermione nodded. "As I'm sure you can understand, I am concerned that given your closeness over the last months with my son and the assistance you gave him in his task, that he may have inadvertently let something slip in that time. I would not have the Dark Lord discover such a slip and endanger my son. So you will wear it to ensure Draco's safety. Am I clear on that?" 

"Crystal clear," Hermione muttered. It was amazing how everything Lucius did seemed to circle back to Draco. Every action came with that same excuse - protecting his son. 

"Good," Lucius said. "The meeting is an hour. Make sure you are _ready_ within that time." 

Hermione nodded and left his study. She couldn't have imagined what the night would bring. 


	15. Holding Sway

Silence met Hermione's ears as she entered the parlour of Malfoy Manor where a long table had been set up for the Dark Lord's meeting. 

There were two empty seats at the table, the remaining chairs already filled by Death Eaters in long black robes, though they seemed to have left their masks at home for the evening. Hermione was grateful for that; now she could identify them, though what she could possibly do with that information, she didn't know. 

She moved to one of the vacant chairs, glancing at Lucius for some sort of signal or reassurance that she was allowed to sit. This being her first Death Eater meeting, she was unsure of the proper etiquette or whether some sort of seating hierarchy existed. Were the seats assigned? She didn't know, and Lucius was staring straight ahead, deliberately not looking at her.

Just as her hand touched the back of the chair, Voldemort met her eyes, his lips curling into a sadistic smile. 

"Mudblood, what do you think you're doing?" he asked softly. 

"I--I was--" Hermione stammered, fear overwhelming her for a moment, the words _going to sit down_ dying in her throat. 

"Mudbloods sit on the floor at my feet," Voldemort informed her. "Chairs are for witches and wizards, not _animals,"_ he said coldly. "You can sit here next to Greyback. Move over, Wolf." 

Greyback snarled as he moved to make room for Hermione, who made her way to Voldemort's side, her pulse racing as she sat on the floor between two of the most infamous killers in the wizarding world. Though it wasn't a full moon, Greyback radiated ruthlessness and primal power, and he was nothing compared to Voldemort. 

"Calm yourself, girl, you're making me hungry," Greyback said menacingly, watching Hermione's throat where her pulse beat rapidly. 

"Enough, Greyback," Voldemort said, without so much as glancing at him. 

Hermione heard the parlour door open and peered around the table legs to get a glimpse of the late arrivals. 

"Amycus. Alecto," Voldemort called. "You're late." 

"Sorry, my lord," Alecto said in a simpering voice that made Hermione cringe. 

"Got held up," Amycus grunted. 

There was a _bang_ and Amycus let out a very pig-like squeal. 

"Mind your manners, Carrow," Bellatrix said coldly. "You will address the Dark Lord as _my lord_ or I will remove your tongue." 

"I will remove your entire head, mad witch!" Amycus spat. 

"Pettigrew, remove Amycus from this room. He is embarrassing himself," Voldemort said calmly, sounding almost bored. 

There was a scuffle as Pettigrew got up without a word and attempted to manhandle Amycus, dragging him into the corridor and slamming the door shut behind them. 

"Alecto, you have a report for me?" Voldemort said, drawing the attention of the assembled Death Eaters back to the meeting and away from the sounds of Amycus's repeated squeals from the corridor where Pettigrew's shrill voice could be heard crying " _Crucio!"_ repeatedly. 

Hermione felt sickened by it all, but fought to retain a neutral expression. 

"I do, my lord," Alecto declared. "My contacts at the Ministry have informed me that with Dumbledore dead, other members of the Hogwarts faculty are attempting to fill his shoes," she said with a sneer.

"Who?" Voldemort asked. 

"Minerva McGonagall - the Deputy Headmistress. She is expected to take Dumbledore's position as Head of the School. If you were to select your own Head from among your many allies, my lord, it would be an opportunity to recruit young talent from the school and increase our ranks. Perhaps myself or--" 

"Severus," Voldemort said. 

"My lord?" Severus said questioningly. 

"You'll be Headmaster, Severus," Voldemort decided. "You know the staff well - you will get them to align with our aims. And the young Slytherins trust you - we will recruit directly from that House. It is the only one worth anything." 

"Yes, my lord," Snape agreed instantly. 

"Alecto and Amycus will assist you. They are more lackeys than leaders. It is the perfect role for them," he said dismissively as Alecto glared. "I shall require another task of you, Severus."

"Name it, my lord." 

"You will report to me the details of the parentage of each student enrolled at Hogwarts school. It is past time to root out the Muggleborn filth," Voldemort said coldly, as a ripple of anger passed through Hermione at his words. 

"As soon as may be, my lord," Severus agreed. 

"Selwyn, Mulciber, Macnair," Voldemort said, as all three nodded in acknowledgement. "You will recruit skilled hunters and trackers from within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or Knockturn Alley itself. I care little where these people come from. You will task them with tracking down any runaway Mudbloods or Blood Traitors that escape our nets. Increase the Muggle killings as well. It is time those vermin learn their place in the new world order. I anticipate resistance to the change we will bring, we must crush it before it starts." 

"Yaxley, Rookwood, Lucius; you will use your considerable influence and any coercion necessary to bring the Department Heads of the Ministry under our control," Voldemort instructed. "Replace them entirely with those more worthy of the position if need be. And I want the Minister brought into our circle. An authority figure like that will go a long way to furthering our influence with the wizarding public. I want to see measurable progress by the end of the month." 

"Lucius," he added. "Have your elf serve the wine I brought. It is a poor host who does not serve refreshments to his guests." 

"At once, my lord," Lucius agreed. "Sassy!" he called, as the elf appeared immediately. "Bring glasses for our guests and serve them _this_ wine." 

Sassy took the bottle from Lucius and glanced disdainfully at it. 

"There is better wine in the cellar, Master," she said. "Sassy can bring something nicer for the guests than this cheap swill." 

Lucius reddened at his elf's judgement of Voldemort's choice of wine. 

" _This one_ is the one we want," he said sternly. "Go immediately and do as I request." 

Sassy complied, grumbling, reappearing a moment later, bearing a tray laden with glasses filled to the brim with red wine. 

The elf set a glass before each of the assembled company, even setting a glass in front of Hermione, who still sat on the floor. Sassy gave her knee a comforting pat. 

"The wine is served, Master," the elf said with a dramatic bow. "But if Master finds it is not to Master's high standards, Sassy _did_ tell Master, Sassy could still bring Master a nicer wine or a whiskey. Master does love his firewhiskey--" 

"Enough, Sassy. Go!" Lucius said commandingly. 

The little elf vanished with a glare and a _pop_. 

"That elf needs discipline, Lucius," Voldemort observed. 

"I could not agree more, my lord," Lucius replied. "I shall see to it immediately."

"Shall we drink, my lord?" Bellatrix purred, interrupting. 

"Yes," Voldemort agreed, though he left his glass untouched. 

"To the Dark Lord," Bellatrix proclaimed, raising her glass and draining it. 

"To the Dark Lord," the other Death Eaters agreed, copying her words and movements and draining their glasses. 

"Drink, Mudblood," Greyback growled. 

"To the Dark Lord," Hermione muttered, _may your reign be as short as your nose,_ she thought sourly, draining her glass. 

"Mudblood, stand," Voldemort ordered, and Hermione rose to her feet, a pleasant warm feeling filling her from the wine. "Do you know what you get when you combine Houndstongue, Mulungu bark, Mad Dog Skullcap, Blue Lotus and Valerian root?" 

"No," Hermione shrugged. "My lord," she hastened to add, not eager to be tortured in the hall as Amycus had been. 

"When crushed into a powder and added to a drink, like this wine," he said, playing with his still full glass. "It makes the drinker highly susceptible to suggestion. Even a wizard skilled in the mind arts, like Severus, would be unable to fight it. It makes such easy targets for the Imperius Curse."

A distant fear niggled at the back of Hermione's mind, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was while her head felt so floaty and warm. 

"Even a wizard like Lucius, for all his considerable talents and love for his son, cannot fight it. Watch," Voldemort said instructively.

"Lucius, Draco - stand," he ordered, as both immediately complied. "Lucius, you love your son, don't you?"

"Yes, my lord, he is everything to me," Lucius answered, his voice a little slurred. 

"Good," Voldemort said. "Strangle him." 

Hermione watched as Lucius's hands closed around Draco's throat and began to squeeze. Draco struggled instinctively, as his father began to choke the very life from his body. 

"Stop," Voldemort ordered, and Lucius immediately obeyed. "You see, Mudblood? One under the influence of this substance can commit unspeakable acts and have no memory of it at all. It only lasts four to six hours of course, depending on the individual's constitution, but it is so useful … You can be useful too," he said quietly.

Hermione nodded faintly, all objection to Voldemort seeming so far off and distant. 

"When I have gathered my forces in a fortnight's time," he said softly. "I will return to the Manor and invite you to drink with us again. Then I will ask you a question," he said softly. "I will ask you where Harry Potter is and you will tell me, won't you?" 

"I will," Hermione agreed. 

"Now, you won't remember this conversation, Mudblood," he said. "But I will. And I will make sure to hold you to your word. You will help me find and kill Harry Potter. You are his friend. He trusts you. I may even let you kill him for me. Would you like that?" 

Hermione nodded mutely. 

"I knew you would make the right choice," he said, his eyes gleaming. "Meeting adjourned," he called to the other Death Eaters, who filed out of the room silently. 

Hermione watched them all go, a dim voice in the back of her mind telling her something was very wrong, but she couldn't think what it could be for the life of her. 


	16. High Hopes

Hermione woke with a pounding head and an irritable mood setting in early. She lay still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach that soon turned to overpowering nausea. She flung the blankets off herself and bolted for the bathroom, emptying last night's dinner into the toilet. She wiped her mouth with a shaking hand, fighting the urge to sink down onto the floor and cry. 

She could smell him on her skin: Greyback. Traces of sweat, dirt, blood and stale tobacco lingered in the air, making Hermione want to vomit all over again. What had happened last night? It was all blurry somehow, and it shouldn't be, she thought confusedly. She could swear to Merlin that she had only had one glass of wine, but she could remember little beyond Voldemort's ominous instructions to his Death Eaters and then a toast to the Dark Lord. She had also been called an animal and a Mudblood, she thought with a scowl. 

"Young Miss?" Sassy's voice called through the door. "Can Sassy help?" 

"I'm fine," Hermione called back from the floor, her voice shaking. 

"Sassy is coming in," the little elf declared, appearing in the bathroom a moment later with a _pop_. 

Sassy paused, looking at Hermione with concern, a little frown wrinkling her brow. 

"Young Miss is feeling ill?" she asked, coming to lay a cool hand against Hermione's forehead. 

"Just a little," Hermione muttered. "I'm fine, Sassy," she added. 

"Sassy will be the judge of that," the little elf said stubbornly, pressing her long fingers together, a faint red glow appearing as she touched her fingers to Hermione's forehead, running a diagnostic spell. 

The elf's frown deepened and Hermione wondered what her elf magic had revealed about the cause of Hermione's nausea. She didn't drink often and never to excess, unlike some of the other Gryffindors who had been to the Weasley twin's Quidditch after-parties, but one glass shouldn't make her sick. Unless she'd had more than that and just couldn't remember. She frowned, thinking hard. 

"Most of the toxins are out, that's good for Young Miss," Sassy muttered, moving back a step and scrutinising Hermione. 

"Toxins?" Hermione repeated, horrified. "Like poison, you mean?" 

"No, no, Young Miss," Sassy said, quick to reassure her. "Maybe just a bad reaction to the guest's wine. It didn't smell at _all_ right to Sassy, but Master insisted," she muttered, beginning to draw Hermione a bath and making it very clear that she thought Master a fool to trust a guest's wine preferences over Sassy's. 

"Four years Sassy has served the Master and Mistress. Sassy knows about wine and most everything else, Sassy expects," she said, now adding epsom salts and oils to the water - eucalyptus, peppermint, tea tree and rosemary, Hermione noticed, allowing Sassy to help her out of last night's robes and into the warm water. She sighed with relief as the warmth and the rising scent of the oils enveloped her, replacing the remnant memories and smells of the previous evening with warmth and a sharp freshness. 

"Thank you, Sassy," Hermione said tiredly, as the elf unbraided her hair for her, pouring warm water through it with a plastic cup. 

"Sassy likes to help," the elf said, gently massaging shampoo into Hermione's scalp. Hermione leaned into her touch. 

"Now I know why my cat likes that so much," she said with a smile. 

"Mistress has cats too," Sassy informed her, as she rinsed the shampoo from Hermione's hair and applied a generous amount of conditioner. "Big, beautiful ones with long, glossy coats. Sassy can show Young Miss later. But the cats must stay inside. If they chase Master's birds, Master gets upset. A drama queen, Mistress says," she added. Hermione grinned at Narcissa's assessment of her husband as Sassy rinsed the conditioner from her hair. 

"All clean and shining," Sassy proclaimed, helping Hermione from the water and casting a drying spell with more of her elf magic, before settling a soft, fluffy bathrobe over her. 

Hermione hugged the robe to herself, relishing the comfort it provided, as Sassy brushed and dried Hermione's long hair, pinning it up with two elegant combs. 

"Beautiful," the elf said happily. "Young Master is very lucky." 

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked nervously, playing absently with the locket and glass phial at her throat, as Sassy laid out fresh silver-grey robes for her to wear. 

The elf smiled conspiratorially, as though she knew a secret and relished the knowledge she had kept to herself. 

"Sassy saw Young Master and Young Miss in the library a week ago," Sassy said slyly as Hermione looked up guiltily. " _Kissing!_ " Sassy exclaimed rapturously. 

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione muttered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sassy, you can't tell," she said warningly. 

"Sassy doesn't tell," the elf promised immediately. "But Sassy plans the wedding. And looks after the babies. Such beautiful babies they will be, with Young Master's proud bearing and Young Miss's pretty curls and cleverness," she proclaimed proudly. 

Hermione laughed as she tied the silver-grey robes Sassy had prepared for her. It was utterly ridiculous; a fairytale ending that wasn't hers to have. 

"Young Miss doesn't believe Sassy?" the little elf said indignantly. 

"No, I do. I do!" Hermione promised quickly before Sassy could get offended. "But, Sassy, you know Mr Malfoy would never allow it," she said, thinking back to the previous evening and the name Voldemort had called her by. "And besides, he made a Vow, Sassy. He's going to kill me as soon as the life debt is paid." 

"Life _debts,_ Young Miss means," Sassy corrected her. 

"What?" Hermione said confusedly. 

"Master thinks there are multiple life debts," Sassy shrugged. "He plans for there to be more if Young Master agrees. If the debts are not paid, Master will not fulfill his Vow yet. He doesn't want to, Sassy can tell." 

"But if Mr Malfoy doesn't carry out the Vow soon, Voldemort will just do it himself," Hermione said worriedly. 

"Master makes plans for He Who Must Not Be Named," Sassy said with certainty. "Master tells Mistress he is a proud son of House Malfoy. He is no man's slave," she said proudly as Hermione gaped at her. 

"How--" Hermione said, unable to fathom the depths of Lucius Malfoy's scheming and hardly daring to hope it was true. 

"Sassy hears things," the elf said unapologetically. "Come, the breakfast will be cold," she said, taking Hermione's hand and dragging her down the stairs. 

However, when Hermione entered the dining room, the only other person present was Narcissa. 

"Good morning," Narcissa said pleasantly. 

"Morning," Hermione replied absently. 

"Lucius and Draco won't be joining us," Narcissa explained as Hermione glanced up and down the table with an air of evident disappointment. "They're both a little under the weather, I'm afraid." 

Hermione nodded as Sassy poured her a tall glass of juice, but her mind was elsewhere. It seemed highly unlikely that Lucius and Draco just _happened_ to also have a bad reaction to the wine, unless it had been laced with something, she thought suspiciously. But what motive would Voldemort have for poisoning his own followers? In that case, was Lucius really ill? Or was he busy planning something? Her questions had no answers, but Hermione had discovered something else. Something she hadn't had since arriving at the Manor. The faintest glimmer of hope. 


	17. Cat's Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter inspired by the request from MythalGivesYouDreams. Hope you enjoy it 💙

"Would Young Miss like another cup of tea?" Sassy asked sweetly. "Or perhaps another piece of toast? Young Miss is so partial to Sassy's fig jam." 

"No thank you, Sassy. I'm full, I think," Hermione said, giving the elf an apologetic smile. 

"If Young Miss is sure," Sassy said reluctantly. "Can Sassy bring anything more for Mistress?" she asked, turning to Narcissa, who was paging idly through an Astronomy journal. 

"A little more tea perhaps, Sassy," Narcissa said with an indulgent smile. "And then if you would clear the table and prepare a breakfast tray to take up to Draco." 

"It will be done right away, Mistress," Sassy promised, refilling Narcissa's cup and adding a quarter spoon of honey to sweeten the tea, just the way her mistress liked it. 

Sassy cleared the table with a click of her fingers, levitating the dishes through a side door that led down to a large kitchen. Hermione followed the elf, not wanting to sit making awkward small talk at the table with Narcissa. 

"Young Miss should wait out here. Kitchens are not fit for Young Miss to see," Sassy said shiftily, trying to block the open doorway. 

"Sassy, hurry up with those dishes. Dodgy has to get the lunch on!" a voice called from the kitchen. 

Her curiosity overpowering her, Hermione slipped past Sassy and entered the kitchen, a room with high ceilings that was so large Hermione could have parked a dozen Hogwarts carriages in the room and still have plenty of room to spare. 

"Young Miss, wait!" Sassy called, the levitating dishes rattling as she hurried after Hermione. 

But she was too late. Hermione was already face to face with another elf. 

"So this is Master's Mudblood," Dodgy said coldly, giving Hermione a scathing look as his pale eyes swept her from head to toe. 

"Dodgy!" Sassy exclaimed reproachfully, allowing the dishes to fall in a cascade that quite buried the other elf. "Wash the dishes, Dodgy," Sassy said commandingly. "Before Sassy washes Dodgy's mouth with soap!" she added threateningly. 

Dodgy emerged from the pile of dishes with a scowl, repairing the broken dishes and levitating them all into a nearby sink with a click of his fingers. 

"Sassy is deeply sorry, Young Miss," the little elf told Hermione. "Dodgy is a bad elf." 

"Dodgy is a _loyal_ elf!" Dodgy screeched from the sink at the top of his lungs. 

"Dodgy is loyal to a dead master with dead ideals," Sassy declared, glaring at him. "Mistress says Master Abraxas's pureblood pedigree only made Master Abraxas more of a vicious, spoilt poodle!" 

"Sassy's Mistress has ruined Master Lucius," Dodgy said angrily. "Master Abraxas would never have let a filthy Mudblood cross the threshold. Master Lucius shames this great hou--" Dodgy suddenly stopped speaking as Sassy made good on her threat and forced a bar of soap between his teeth. 

"Sassy will clean Dodgy's ears next if he says such things about Master again," Sassy said crossly, tugging hard on one of Dodgy's bat-like ears as Dodgy tried to slap her hand away, growling and gargling around the soap that was still wedged between his teeth. 

"Wash the dishes," Sassy repeated, releasing Dodgy, and magicking a tall glass of juice, a fresh cup of coffee and a bowl of warm, sweetened oatmeal onto a tray. "Come, Young Miss. Young Master needs his breakfast," Sassy called, levitating the tray over her head and leading Hermione out of the kitchen where Dodgy was now spitting soap suds into the sink. 

* * *

After delivering Draco's breakfast to him personally, Sassy turned to Hermione with shining eyes. 

"Now we will go to see Mistress's cats," she proclaimed happily. "Would Young Miss like that?" 

Hermione nodded faintly, more bothered by Dodgy's attitude toward her than she was prepared to admit. But she soon forgot about Dodgy when Sassy led her to a sun-room containing a perfectly manicured garden. Cat toys littered the bright lawn which seemed to have sprung from the room's very carpet. Woven hammocks were tied between tree trunks, while enchanted toy mice skittered and squeaked across the grass, chased by three enthusiastic white kittens. Two much larger adult cats watched the visitors lazily from atop a wooden platform, soaking up the sun as they groomed themselves, heedless of the romping kittens. 

That changed in an instant, however, as soon as Hermione reached to pet one of the tiny kittens wrestling in the grass at her feet. 

Both fully grown cats leapt down to the floor with surprising speed and agility, prowling in a circle around Hermione, who felt a little nervous with their gleaming eyes on her. 

"Monet, Morty," Sassy called. "Be nice. This is Mistress's _guest_. And we have treats," she added hastily, producing a platter of smoked salmon, seemingly from nowhere. 

The big cats began pawing at Sassy, mewling like kittens as they begged for a taste of the fish. Sassy was happy to oblige, feeding each of the big cats some delicate morsels of fish, until they stretched on the grass, sated, satisfied and a little spoiled, Hermione thought with a smile, watching Sassy scratch their chins. 

"You can pet them now," Sassy said reassuringly, as one of the big cats rested it's head in Sassy's lap. 

"What are their names?" Hermione asked, carefully stroking one of the kittens, but keeping a nervous eye on the bigger cats just in case. 

They, however, seemed to be perfectly at their ease now, and Hermione's confidence gradually grew as the kittens nuzzled her hands, one cheeky kitten even climbing up to perch on her shoulder to rub his little face against her cheek. 

"This one is Morty," Sassy said, indicating one of the large adult cats, who turned her bright amber eyes on Hermione and purred. "She's the mum-cat," Sassy explained. 

"And this one is Monet," Sassy said, stroking the long white, glossy coat of the other adult cat. "He's the dad-cat. Very protective," she added, scratching Monet's chin. 

"And the kittens?" Hermione asked. 

"The fluffy one is Margot," Sassy said, indicating a kitten that was currently pawing at Hermione's shoes as if to see if there were any treats hiding in them. 

"Monique has the gold eyes," Sassy continued, indicating the kitten that was stretched out in Hermione's lap, begging to have her belly tickled. 

"And that one is Magnus," Sassy said with a little chuckle, pointing to the kitten perched on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione turned her head with some difficulty, Magnus having decided to personally groom Hermione's hair, his sparkling eyes, one amber and one blue, gleaming from within Hermione's honey-brown curls. 

The door opened suddenly, causing Magnus to dig his claws into the back of Hermione's neck. She winced and turned to see who had entered her cat paradise.

Lucius Malfoy stood over her, not looking a bit under the weather in Hermione's opinion, though his strained expression did give her some cause for concern. 

"Miss Granger, might I have a word?" he asked stiffly. 

"What about?" Hermione asked, trying and failing to extract Magnus from her hair. 

"Life debts," Lucius said ominously; two little words that shattered the perfect tranquility of Hermione's morning, setting the tone for events that were soon to unfold.


	18. Behind Closed Doors

Hermione followed Lucius Malfoy as he swept along the richly carpeted corridors of the Manor and led her into his personal study. Draco looked up as the pair of them entered the room, flashing Hermione a small smile when his father wasn't looking. Hermione returned the smile, then quickly sat in one of the chairs in front of Lucius's highly polished desk, giving the senior Malfoy her full attention. 

Lucius surveyed her keenly, his stern grey eyes not leaving her face for several long moments. For a moment Hermione wondered what he was trying to do, aside from make her uncomfortable, then she felt the Occlumency phial he had given her begin to warm, sending a tingling heat against her skin. She was relieved to find that it pulsed, rather than burned when tested. He was trying to read her mind, Hermione realised, relieved that the phial seemed to even protect her from Lucius. 

"Something on your mind, Mr Malfoy?" Hermione said calmly, though inwardly she seethed at the attempted invasion of her mind. 

"Several things, in fact," Lucius said, leaning back in his chair. 

"Life debts?" Hermione asked, remembering what he'd said when he had come to summon her a few moments ago. 

"Among other things," Lucius said carefully. "What happened last night?" He asked suddenly, leaning forward. 

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. 

"I mean, what happened to my son?" Lucius demanded fiercely, waving his wand and removing the glamour Draco had used to conceal a number of long, finger-shaped bruises around his throat. 

"How did you get those?" Hermione asked, horrified by the mottled, green bruises. 

"He claims not to know," Lucius said before Draco could answer. "And I don't know, so that leaves you, Miss Granger. What happened?" 

"You don't remember either," Hermione said slowly, thinking back to the previous night and her conversation with Sassy earlier in the morning. 

"What do you mean _either_?" Lucius said, his grey eyes flashing dangerously. 

"I can't remember anything after the wine. Sassy said it was off or-- or laced," Hermione admitted. She didn't want to betray the elf's confidence, but she couldn't see another way around it. Sassy was suspicious and so was Lucius. 

"What?" Lucius said disbelievingly. "But who? Not the Dark Lord… it's treasonous to even _suggest_ \--" he paused, seeming to struggle with himself for a minute. "Sassy!" He called, the little elf appearing in the room a moment later, still holding a kitten. 

"Master called?" Sassy said questioningly. 

"Yes, he did," Lucius said stiffly, getting up and striding over to the elf. "Put that down," he ordered, taking the kitten from Sassy and dumping it in Hermione's lap. A pair of mismatched eyes looked up at Hermione and she smiled despite herself. 

"Hello, Magnus," she whispered, stroking the kitten's soft head, as he purred and snuggled deeper into her arms. 

"What do you know about this, Sassy?" Lucius demanded, gesturing to Draco's bruised neck. 

Sassy's eyes flickered up to Lucius's face, then down to the floor. 

"Master will not like the answer," Sassy said quietly. 

"Nevertheless, I will have it," Lucius said firmly. "Who did this to my son?" 

"Master did," Sassy replied. 

"What?" Lucius exclaimed loudly, as Sassy jumped a little. 

"The wine from Master's guest," Sassy hurried to explain. "Master's guest tells Young Miss what is in it. It makes people do what Master's guest says. He makes Young Miss promise to betray Harry Potter. He makes Master attack Young Master, and nobody remembers. Sassy heard him say it." 

Hermione felt ice flood her veins at Sassy's words. Betray Harry? Never, she resolved firmly. She would die first. 

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Lucius demanded furiously. 

"Sassy is bound to serve, to protect Master's noble House," the elf said, trembling. "Sassy knows of Master's guest. Sassy knows what people say about him. Master's guest is dangerous; he keeps many secrets. If Master finds out the secrets, Master's life will be in danger. Sassy must protect master. That is Sassy's job." 

Hermione's heart went out to the tiny elf who had assigned herself the protectress of the family. 

Lucius leaned against his desk, breathing hard as he considered all that Sassy had said. He knew the secrets already, more than the Dark Lord thought he did anyway. Miss Granger wore one such secret around her neck, though whether she had yet recognised it for what it was, he didn't know. 

"Your job is to follow orders," Lucius said quietly. 

"Yes," Sassy agreed. "Master's orders. And Sassy's. Sassy makes orders to serve Master to the best of Sassy's ability." 

Lucius sighed, rubbing his forehead anxiously. 

"Sassy, bring me whatever is left of that wine bottle. I will get to the bottom of this, whatever it takes. And summon Severus. I will need his help," he ordered, as Sassy nodded and vanished with a little _pop._

A long silence fell in the room, lasting some minutes, and broken only by the sound of Magnus purring, until Lucius spoke. 

"That blasted elf," Lucius muttered, though he smiled. "What would we do without her?" 

"Master will not have to find out," Sassy announced. "Here is the bottle, Master. Sassy calls Professor Severus in the fire. He says to expect him after dinner." 

"Very well," Lucius said, taking the bottle and setting it on his desk. "Miss Granger, you may go. Take the cat with you, just keep it away from my birds," he added sternly. 

"What about the life debts?" Hermione asked. 

"Another time," Lucius said, waving his hand. "I have other things to see to." 

Hermione nodded and stood up, Draco moving to rise too, but Lucius stopped him. 

"Stay where you are. Your mother is not to see you like this, Draco," he said, indicating the bruises that stood out against Draco's pale skin. 

"I can help with that," Hermione offered. "The Weasley twins taught me a recipe for a bruise removal paste. I can mix it up for Draco and the bruises will fade within an hour." 

Lucius looked at her with some surprise. 

"It's a long story," Hermione added with a shrug. "Punching telescope." 

"Fine. Thank you, Miss Granger," Lucius said stiffly. " But mind what I say. Narcissa is not to see those marks or know anything about it. And if Sassy is right, if I--" he hesitated. "I'm sorry," he said, so quietly that they almost didn't hear him. 

"Sure you are," Draco muttered, following Hermione as she scooped up Magnus and disappeared out the door. 

* * *

"Are you sure this will work?" Draco said doubtfully, as Hermione dabbed the thick orange paste onto his skin. 

"Do you ever stop talking?" Hermione complained. "Just hold still," she said, smearing a little more of the paste on.

"Smells like apricots," Draco mumbled. 

"The paste?" Hermione said, pausing to examine it. 

"Your hair," Draco explained. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

"Stop talking," she said, shaking her head with a smile. 

"Make me," Draco said tauntingly, snatching the small bowl of paste from her in one swift, fluid movement. 

"Don't tempt me," Hermione said with a grin, trying to snatch it back, but Draco held it high over her head. "You're so infuriating," she said, standing on tiptoe to try to reach the little bowl. 

"I think you mean _charming_ ," Draco said with a laugh, as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and made him drop the bowl, bright orange paste now coating Narcissa's expensive carpet. 

"Now you've done it," Hermione said, glancing at the mess. 

"You did it, you mean," Draco pointed out. "If you hadn't stuck your elbow where it wasn't wanted…" 

"If you hadn't been so infuriating," Hermione argued. 

"If you hadn't been so--" Draco's words trailed off as Hermione shoved him against the wall, pressing her lips to his. 

"Stop talking," Hermione said after a few moments, breaking the kiss with a little sigh. 

"I will if you will," Draco said, tugging at her hair teasingly. 

"Deal," Hermione agreed, pulling him close and melting into the warm, soft heat of Draco's mouth. 


	19. A Subtle Science

“Well?” Lucius said impatiently, hovering close to Severus. Hermione fought hard to suppress a grin on seeing the Potions Master’s irritability; she had assumed he reserved that particular unpleasant demeanour for Gryffindors, but it was now evident that irritability was just his natural state. 

“It’s simple enough. I have been able to determine the components of the powder from the sample your elf provided. I can create a temporary immunity to the substance. It is not an antidote; that would do us little good after the fact. This is more of a targeted immunity potion,” Severus replied, though he looked grim as he set down several phials filled with a teal-coloured liquid. 

“So, what’s the problem then?” Lucius said. “Severus, you’ve got that look on your face,” he added a little anxiously. 

“The _problem,_ ” Severus said, glancing at Hermione, “is that to arouse the Dark Lord’s suspicions is dangerous for both of us.”

“Severus, I can play the part well enough, as can you,” Lucius said, with a proud little toss of his head. 

“Yes,” Severus agreed. ”But, can _she?_ ” 

“Can she what?” Hermione asked, looking between them. 

“You should never have gotten her involved in this,” Severus said furiously, as though Hermione hadn’t spoken. 

“I had little other choice left to me, Severus, as you very well know, after that life debt of your own--”

“Quiet!” Severus exclaimed, his dark eyes flashing. 

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, rising from the sofa where she had been stroking Crookshanks; the fluffy part-kneazle having been returned to her that very evening by an irate Professor Snape. 

“Severus is merely expressing his _concern_ ,” Lucius said tactfully. 

“I am more than concerned, Lucius,” Severus interrupted. “I am second-guessing this entire idea!” 

“Be that as it may,” Lucius said smoothly. “The girl deserves an explanation, or at the very least, a choice in the matter.” 

“First of all, I haven’t had a choice in _any_ matter since you started interfering with my life after Draco and I invoked that life debt,” Hermione said angrily. “And secondly, I don’t need an explanation; I’m smart enough to figure it out on my own.” 

“Please, enlighten us, Miss Granger,” Severus said sarcastically. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, joining the two wizards at Lucius’s desk. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to work it out,” Hermione said scathingly. “You’re a spy. He’s a double agent. _This,”_ she said, tugging at the gold chain around her neck from which a heavy locket was suspended, “I know _exactly_ what it is, which is why I keep it close at all times. It is not the first dark artefact Mr Malfoy has conveniently passed off to someone with connections to Dumbledore or Harry, both of whom would have been only too happy to destroy it and You Know Who _,_ which would get your family out from under his thumb,” she said, glancing at Lucius who looked utterly gobsmacked. But Hermione wasn’t done. “If I take that potion, I keep my free will when You Know Who tries to lace my drink or food again, but unless I act as if that powder was working, he will figure out that you two helped discover a way to protect me from it and he will probably kill all of us, _after_ he finds another way to get information about Harry from me, either through torture, the imperius curse, legilimency or forcing me to ingest the powder again after that immunity potion wears off. Does that about sum it up?” she said, tapping her foot impatiently.

Lucius cleared his throat, while Severus stared at Hermione as though seeing her clearly for the first time. 

“Clearly, we were wrong to underestimate your capabilities, Miss Granger,” Lucius said with a smooth half-bow, although, truth be told, he was a little irked that she had seen through his carefully plotted plans and devised the true motive behind them. But, he still had a few cards up his skilfully embroidered sleeves she had yet to discover. 

“Clearly,” Severus agreed. “And, while that was an impressive display of your knowledge of our respective situations, you see now the concerns I have,” he said carefully. “Neither of us can afford for you to make a grand, self-righteous speech like that to the Dark Lord or another of his followers, thus revealing the secrets and information we have carefully uncovered to secure his destruction, be it at Potter’s hands or another.” 

“What do you suggest then, Severus?” Lucius said sharply. “If we do nothing, the Dark Lord may learn the truth of our loyalties through her and you and I both know he is not kindly disposed towards traitors. And aside from that, if he uses her to get to Potter and kills him, our cause is lost,” he said grimly. “If we use the immunity potion, he _may_ get suspicious, or he may not,” he shrugged. “We can teach her how to conceal her true purpose and play the part of a willing puppet, like you taught me to do.” 

“We have less than a fortnight before the Dark Lord returns,” Severus said doubtfully. 

“You better hope she’s a fast learner then,” Lucius said, clapping his old friend on the shoulder. 

Severus suppressed a groan with difficulty. 

“Monday morning. Lucius’s private office. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late,” he said bitterly. 

Hermione sighed. It looked like she would be attending summer school with Professor Severus Snape.

* * *

Monday morning came all too soon for Hermione’s liking. Sassy fussed and tailored an extra set of Draco’s school robes to fit Hermione’s petit figure. It didn’t matter how many times Hermione told the elf that a school uniform was unnecessary, Sassy would have none of it, insisting on packing parchment, spare quills, ink, snacks and a sandwich into a black leather satchel for her. 

“Sassy, I’m not going to school,” Hermione explained for the dozenth time. “Professor Snape is just,” she hesitated. “...giving me some extra tutoring,” she finished. 

“Young Master has tutors and Sassy always makes him dress appropriately,” Sassy informed her, finishing adjusting the hem of the long robes, and adjusting the material so the folds lay just so. 

“If you have to,” Hermione sighed. She was not looking forward to Snape’s private tutelage, certain that he would use the lessons to remind her of her naivety and inferiority compared to such experienced strategists as himself and Lucius. Her fears would prove to be groundless, however. 

* * *

“Miss Granger, you are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of-- _What_?” he said irritably as Hermione grinned, unable to help herself. 

“Nothing,” Hermione said, trying hard to banish the smile from her lips. “It’s just nice to see that some things don’t change, Professor,” she said quietly. 

“If we were in Hogwarts at this very moment, you would be losing House points,” Severus said severely. “As it is, five minutes will be taken from your lunch break.”

“I get a lunch break?” Hermione asked innocently. 

  
“Not anymore,” Severus said sternly. “And I would remind you to take what I am trying to teach you _seriously._ Now, Lesson One: Patterns and Predictability - how to use them to your advantage and why they will get you killed. Write this down,” he added, and Hermione began to dutifully take note, hanging on every word. The knowledge Severus had chosen to impart would save her life and give her a new one at the same time; a life she had never expected to have - the life of a spy.


	20. Those Who Fail To Plan

"Miss Granger, let us go over the plan one more time," Severus suggested, as Hermione rolled a teal phial of immunity potion between her fingers. 

"If you insist," she said quietly, trying to conceal her nervousness. Her two weeks of training with Severus were up. Lord Voldemort was coming to the Manor tonight. 

"When the Dark Lord asks you a question, you will say 'yes,' no matter what he asks of you. There will be no hesitation, and no reaction from you. You must show him full, unconditional compliance. If he asks for information, you will give it, and trust Lucius and myself to tip off the right people in time," Severus said warningly, as Hermione threw him a sharp look, knowing that he was talking about the Order, and more importantly, Harry. 

"If it is a crucial piece of information that he absolutely cannot know, you will feed him a detailed story instead," Lucius added. "He can't read your mind while you wear the enchanted phial and if you act convincingly, he will have no reason to try to." 

"Got it," Hermione said grimly. "Act like a complete doormat and I'll be fine." 

Severus gripped his forearm suddenly and hissed in pain, his dark eyes meeting Lucius's in confirmation. 

"He's here," Lucius said, snatching up a phial of immunity potion and downing it in one long gulp as Severus and Hermione copied him. 

"Just don't do anything foolish," Severus muttered, leading the way to the parlour where Lord Voldemort and the other Death Eaters had started to assemble. 

* * *

"Severus, Lucius, my friends, be seated. Mudblood," the Dark Lord said in acknowledgement, his red eyes narrowing as he watched Hermione enter the room. 

She made no comment in response, but settled gracefully on the floor at his feet. Greyback wasn't present at the meeting this time, for which Hermione was thankful, until she remembered it was a full moon and the werewolf was no doubt out infecting innocent people with his lycanthropy. 

"Ah, Dolohov, Rowle - you have found it then?" Voldemort called, as the pair of Death Eaters entered, levitating a large, covered cage between them. A snarling growl echoed from deep within the cage, raising the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck. 

"Set it down here, in the middle of the table, where everyone can see," Voldemort instructed, his expression triumphant, as he whipped the covering from the cage, revealing the creature within: a werewolf. Hermione could have named all five of the differences between the were and common wolf, but something in the creature's eyes called out to her. There was something familiar about him, but she could swear to Merlin that the only werewolves she knew were Remus and Greyback. 

"My lord, forgive me," Lucius said, inclining his head respectfully. "But may I ask why you have brought a werewolf into my home? On a full moon, no less." 

"You dare to question my judgement, Lucius?" Voldemort said coldly, as Lucius stammered an apology.

Hermione listened intently. It was very well done she thought, Lucius's apology was uttered in a fearful tone, every word a placation, none of it overdone. There was no reason to suppose that the frightened-sounding pureblood had turned on his Master. To suggest such a thing would be laughable to a person like Voldemort who revelled in the fear of friend and foe alike. 

"In answer to your question, Lucius," Voldemort said quietly. "I have brought this creature here for a demonstration of sorts; a reminder to serve our cause with fealty. We do have a Mudblood among us, and I want it made clear that while I tolerate her existence, I do not tolerate her kind." 

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Was this Voldemort's plan? To turn her into a werewolf for his army? These questions and others like it circled her brain in the time it took the Death Eaters to agree that such a demonstration was timely and necessary. 

"Rookwood, fetch our guest of honour," Voldemort ordered. 

The Death Eater rose immediately and left the room, returning a short time later, dragging a captive woman, who, though bound and gagged, struggled fiercely, her eyes wide with terror as Rookwood threw her to the floor. 

Bile rose in Hermione's throat as she recognised the woman's face: Professor Charity Burbage, Hogwarts' Muggle Studies teacher. 

"No," Hermione said, the word slipping from her lips before she could stop it. Voldemort heard and turned to look down at her, his eyes gleaming. 

"You can thank Lucius," he sneered. "He was the one who made me see that it was necessary. You see, while you are under the protection of House Malfoy, I cannot harm you, Mudblood; I gave my word in an Unbreakable Vow to Lucius. But I _can_ harm anyone like you, anyone who vouches for Muggle filth. Throw her in the cage, Rookwood," he ordered, as the Death Eater immobilized Professor Burbage and levitated her up to the table, opening the cage door and locking it quickly behind the Muggle Studies professor, who screamed in terror as the werewolf tore into her flesh with a growl, silencing her screams and ending her life in seconds. 

Hermione averted her eyes from the horrific scene, catching her trembling bottom lip between her teeth and fighting for control. In all the lessons she had attended with Severus, nothing had prepared her for this. 

"You don't look well, Mudblood," Voldemort observed critically. "Perhaps a little wine?" he offered, producing a bottle from beneath his cloak. 

"No, I-I couldn't," Hermione said, stammering for effect. 

"I insist," Voldemort said coldly. "Lucius, have your elf pour a glass for the Mudblood." 

"At once, my lord," Lucius agreed. "Sassy!" he called, summoning the elf, who appeared with a little _pop._

"Take the bottle my guest has provided and pour Miss Granger a glass of wine," Lucius instructed. 

"Yes, Master," Sassy said with an exaggerated bow that almost made Hermione smile. "Will Master's other guests be needing refreshments too?" 

"We're fine," Lucius said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just the wine for Miss Granger." 

"As Master wishes," Sassy said meekly, taking the bottle from Voldemort with another bow and summoning a wine glass with a snap of her fingers. She filled the glass and set it carefully before Hermione, then vanished with a little curtsey. 

"Drink," Voldemort said softly. 

Hermione raised the glass to her lips, a faint flowery scent filling her nostrils that was quite distinct from the aroma of red wine: Valerian, she deduced. They had been right to assume he would try to dose her with his suggestion powder again, she thought grimly, draining the glass in one and setting it down on the floor next to her. The immunity potion Severus had concocted seemed to be working though, her head was miraculously clear, her senses not dulled by the wine or any extra ingredients Voldemort had added to it.

"Very good," Voldemort said, satisfied. "You want to help me, don't you Mudblood? It's in your best interests if you do," he continued as Hermione nodded slowly, blinking blearily as though the wine was making her drowsy. 

"You want to tell me where Harry Potter is," Voldemort said softly, his eyes fixed on her face. 

"He's with his aunt and uncle," Hermione said immediately. 

"Why would he go back there now that Dumbledore is not forcing him to?" Voldemort asked. "By all accounts, he despises those Muggles. Wouldn't you agree?" 

"Protective charms," Hermione explained with a shrug. "Death Eaters can't get within fifty feet of the place. Neither can you," she said, slurring her voice a little. 

"But you can," Voldemort said, his eyes gleaming. "You could walk Potter into an ambush, couldn't you?" 

"I could," Hermione said, as though the thought was appealing to her. 

"Where is this place? Where are the Muggles?" Voldemort asked. "Tell me!" he added urgently. 

"Number 4, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey," Hermione replied. 

"This corresponds with your information from within the Order, does it not, Severus?" Voldemort asked. 

"Yes, my lord," Severus confirmed. 

"When last we spoke, you said they planned to move the boy to somewhere more secure. When?" Voldemort demanded. 

"Next Saturday at nightfall. He will be escorted under armed guard to the home of one of the Order. That place will have every protection the Ministry can provide. It will be near impossible to--" 

"Thank you, Severus," Voldemort said, cutting him off. "Very well. We move on the boy's location Saturday at nightfall. I want the place surrounded in every direction before the Order arrive. Once he leaves, the protective charms will break, I assume?" He said, looking to Severus, who nodded. "Good. The Mudblood will get close to him and draw him out, and once his guard is down, I will kill him at last." 


	21. A Caged Beast

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the halls of the Manor early the next morning, rousing Hermione from an uneasy sleep. She snatched up her wand from the bedside table, flinging her dressing gown on over her pyjamas and abandoning her warm bed. 

" _Lumos,"_ she whispered, the tip of her wand flaring in the dim light as she crept to the drawing room, where agonising screams and a metallic rattling could be heard. 

"Mr Wolf. Mr Wolf, calm down or you will wake Master," Sassy was saying anxiously, as the heavy cage rocked from side to side.

The cage was exactly where Voldemort had left it the previous evening, the torn and slashed remains of Professor Burbage lay on one side of the metal box, and on the other, naked and shaking with pain and rage was--

"Not Mr Wolf. I'm Neville. My name's Neville," he said as sobs shook his thin frame. 

"Neville?" Hermione gasped, hurrying forward. 

"Young Miss should be in bed," Sassy protested. "It's too early, too cold. Sassy can light a fire or make tea." 

But Hermione wasn't listening. 

" _Alohomora!"_ she cried, unlocking the cage and allowing Neville to crawl out of it. He overbalanced and tumbled to the floor in a tangle of naked limbs. 

Hermione blushed embarrassingly on seeing his bare arse. She pulled her dressing gown off and draped it over him, trying to preserve what little remained of his dignity. 

"Sassy, help me get him up," Hermione said, trying to lift Neville to his feet. 

Sassy clicked her fingers, using her elf magic to gently lift Neville into a chair. He shook violently and tugged Hermione's dressing gown closer around himself, hugging it to his skin, and wincing when the soft fibres caught in his many half-healed gashes. 

"Mr Neville needs potions. Sassy will get Shaky. He is specially trained," the little elf said, vanishing on the spot, presumably to summon Shaky. 

"Can I get you anything?" Hermione asked anxiously, as Neville squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head slowly from side to side. 

"Just talk more quietly if you would. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude," he apologised through gritted teeth. "It's just, you have no idea what it's like, Hermione. It's like all my senses are in overdrive." 

"Okay," Hermione said, hating that she didn't know how to help him. Why had she never asked Remus about his recovery post-moon, Hermione thought, berating herself for her thoughtlessness. 

"How did you end up here?" Hermione wondered aloud. 

"After Greyback attacked me, I--" Neville hesitated and Hermione immediately regretted bringing up such a painful memory. 

"No, sorry, I meant, how did you get _here?_ To the Manor?" she asked. 

"I should be asking you that," Neville said with a frown. "You went missing the night Dumbledore died. The _Prophet's_ been saying that you-- that you had something to do with it. With his death, I mean. It's ridiculous. Just Skeeter's usual rubbish. Forget I said anything," he added, as Hermione paled. What would Neville think of her if he knew she'd had a hand in it? An accidental hand, but a hand nonetheless. 

"Ridiculous," she agreed faintly. "But let's not worry about that now," she said, as Sassy returned with a second elf. Hermione hadn't seen him before. He was very tiny, with small, pale eyes and wispy white hair in tufts behind his ears. 

"Young Miss, Mr Neville, this is Shaky. He has special training from Professor Severus in potions and healing. He can help," Sassy promised. 

Neville winced as Shaky examined his wounds with long deft fingers. The elf nodded as though satisfied, then passed Neville three phials from a pocket of the little embroidered sheet he wore. 

"Invigoration Draught, Pain Relief Potion, and Skelegro for the bones," he said, tapping Neville's arm and indicating he should drink the potions. Neville glared sullenly, but dutifully downed the potions. 

"Say ahh," Shaky ordered. 

"I won't," Neville said stubbornly, as Shaky bounded onto his lap and forced his mouth open with his hands to see for himself. 

"Good. Potions all drunk up," he said, releasing Neville, whose eyes flashed dangerously, looking as though he was tempted to shove the interfering elf to the floor. 

Shaky produced a fourth phial filled with a purple liquid and poured a little onto a cotton bud. 

"What's that?" Neville said crossly, folding his arms. 

"Wound Cleaning Potion. Lycanthropes heal fast enough, but they are not immune to infection," Shaky said wisely, dabbing some of the potion into every wound he could reach, as Neville hissed and tried, without success, to evade the elf and his cotton bud.

"Good. All cleaned up, potions administered," Shaky said consulting a clipboard that he produced from thin air. "Shaky recommends bed rest and a dreamless sleep potion." 

"Why do you care if I dream?" Neville said with a frown. 

"Shaky doesn't. But young Mr Wolf maybe won't want to remember _that_ ," he said, gesturing to Professor Burbage's bloodied corpse. "Perhaps a Forgetfulness Potion," he said thoughtfully, consulting his clipboard. "Shaky can prescribe that too." 

"No. No more potions," Neville said, swallowing hard as he looked back at Professor Burbage's body. "Just clothes and some peace and quiet."

"Clothes?" Shaky said, dropping his clipboard in horror and hugging the small white sheet he wore like a toga to himself. 

"Clothes for _me_ ," Neville said pointedly. 

"Oh," Shaky said, picking up his clipboard with evident relief. "Sassy can help with that. Household things are not Shaky's department," he said, bowing and vanishing on the spot. 

"Thank him for us, won't you, Sassy?" Hermione said fondly, deciding she quite liked Shaky, even if he was a little odd. 

"Sassy will do that, Miss," the elf promised. "Would Mr Neville like Sassy to show him to a guest-room? Mr Neville can rest before breakfast, then Sassy will give Mr Neville a nice bath to wash the blood and bad smells off." 

"Sleep sounds good," Neville said tiredly. "But before I do, Hermione, will you send an owl to Pansy and let her know I'm alright? I'm sure she's worried sick." 

"You and Pansy?" Hermione said in surprise, gaping at him. 

"Yeah," Neville said, a little shyly. "After Greyback, I couldn't go home. If I infected Gran or hurt her… I couldn't live with myself. Pansy took me in for a while. Well, she hid me in an old cottage on her dad's estate. Mr Parkinson, well, _Linden_ , I think Pans said his name is, has a fair bit of land. More than the Malfoys. They have money, but he has deeds and titles, the way she tells it. But anyway, he found out somehow and the next thing I knew, I was being shoved into that cage by a pair of Death Eaters." 

"How long were you in there?" Hermione said, horrified. 

"Days. A week, maybe," Neville said thoughtfully. "I knew the moon was close, I could feel the pull of it. But just, tell her I'm okay. Please?" 

"Of course," Hermione said. "Get some sleep. I'll write to her now." 

She watched as Sassy led Neville up the stairs, unconsciously adding four names to a list in her head: Fenrir Greyback who had turned Neville. Linden Parkinson who had traded him to Voldemort. And Thorfinn Rowle and Antonin Dolohov who had caged him and treated him like an animal. Someday they would pay, Hermione would make sure of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks and credit to Gcgraywriter for the character of Linden Parkinson. I highly recommend her works, in particular "A Glimpse of Lace" and "Get Knotted." 💕


	22. Lucius and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

At a few minutes to eight, Hermione, now properly dressed, hurried downstairs, not wanting to miss breakfast in the dining room. She had been craving french toast for hours. Writing a letter to Pansy had turned out to be very hungry work. But Hermione couldn't resist pausing at Neville's door upon hearing the argument taking place inside the room. 

"Stay still and let Sassy comb out the tangles!" the little elf was saying in a mildly scolding tone. 

"They're not tangles, they're knots! Just stop pulling!" Neville complained. 

"The tangles must come out! Just hold still! Hold still or Sassy bites!" the little elf threatened, as Hermione shook with barely suppressed, silent laughter. 

"What are you doing?" a voice asked suddenly and Hermione jumped. 

"Shush," she whispered, spotting Draco and waving him away from the door. 

"Listening at keyholes," Draco said, shaking his head. "I thought Snape would've taught you better than that by now." 

"I wasn't--" the words died in her throat seeing Draco's smug grin. "Neville's in there," she explained. 

"Oh I know," Draco said, leaning against the wall behind him and giving her a searching look. "I caught a glimpse of him early this morning… naked except for your dressing gown," he added with raised eyebrows. "And here I thought we had something special, Hermione," he said with a mock pout. 

"Draco Malfoy, are you  _ jealous?"  _ Hermione said teasingly, moving closer and threading her fingers through his silky hair. 

"I'm not that petty," he protested. "But also, yes," he said with a half-laugh. 

Hermione leaned towards him then stopped just shy of his lips. She rested her finger against his mouth as though to shush him. 

"I don't know if I should reward such behaviour, Draco. Jealousy is not an attractive trait in most men," she said playfully. 

"I'm not most men," he said with a shrug and a cocky grin. 

"That's true, you're not," Hermione said slowly, meeting his eyes, which sparkled with mischief, before she claimed his lips, melting into the warm, soft heat of his mouth with a sigh. Draco buried his hands in her hair and tugged gently, eliciting a sharp gasp from Hermione, giving Draco the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth, as Hermione pressed her body closer to him, her hips brushing against his, sending a delicious tingling sensation through her as he stirred against her hip. She wanted to do that again, very much, she thought recklessly, grinding her hips against his  _ hard _ as Draco groaned and broke the kiss with a gasp. 

"The things you do to me," Draco muttered, pressing a hot kiss to the curve of her neck. 

At that moment, a door opened opposite them. 

"Please, don't stop on my account," Neville said with a grin. 

Hermione and Draco jumped apart, the latter moving to hide behind Hermione to conceal the bulge in his trousers. 

"Morning, Neville," Hermione said sweetly, trying to smooth her unruly hair back into place, and privately thinking that he looked much better than he had earlier. 

"Good morning, Hermione. Malfoy," he replied, seeming to be enjoying the sight of Draco's pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

"No time, no time for that," Sassy said, pulling the door shut behind her. "Down to breakfast or the food will be cold!" 

"I'll be there in a minute. Uh, bathroom," Draco said, turning swiftly and hurrying down the hall without a backwards glance. 

* * *

Lucius set down his knife and fork and pushed away his plate. 

"Sassy, bring me the paper and the post, if you please," he requested. 

Sassy immediately fetched the requested items and set them before him with a little bow. 

"Can Sassy bring anything else?" she asked. 

"Not just now," he said distractedly, opening a letter stamped with the Parkinson House seal. Breaking the wax seal with a tap of his wand, he opened the envelope and extracted several folded pieces of parchment. 

His grey eyes scanned the pages before him rapidly, the frown lines in his brow increasing with every word he read, before he threw down the letter, looking very much as though he wanted to set fire to it. 

"For Salazar's sake," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling sharply through his nose. 

"What is it, love?" Narcissa asked, reaching for the letter. 

Lucius buried his head in his hands for a moment, unable to even articulate what Linden Parkinson had written. 

"I am  _ not  _ running a halfway house for wayward teenagers!" he exclaimed. 

Neville raised his eyebrows but said nothing, allowing Sassy to set another pancake on his plate. 

"This is your fault," Lucius grumbled to Draco. 

"What did I do?" Draco said defensively. 

"You invoked a life debt with Miss Granger and brought her here," Lucius said with a sigh. "You're the bloody catalyst for the Dark Lord dropping a teenage werewolf on my dinner table. A werewolf who is supposed to be locked in the cellar, by the way," he said, looking pointedly at Sassy, who ignored her Master and promptly poured Neville a cup of sweetened cocoa, adding chocolate sauce and strawberries to his pancake for him. "And now on top of that, Linden Parkinson tells me that he is disowning his daughter because she surrendered her virtue to the same werewolf who's eating  _ my chocolate sauce, Narcissa!"  _ he exclaimed despairingly. "Where does it end, I ask you," he said dramatically, snatching the nearest bowl of whipped cream and emptying it into his mouth. 

Narcissa watched her husband with evident amusement, taking a cloth napkin and wiping his chin where a little spot of cream lingered, before kissing his forehead. 

"It will be fine," she promised. "There are lunar wards on the property now. Mr Longbottom can't get out. He will have to stay in the cellar for the full moon of course, unless we let him run in the orchard for the night. The wards would prevent him from leaving the grounds anyway. You worry too much," she declared. "And, who knows? It might be nice to have Pansy here. She would certainly be better company for Miss Granger than, say, Bellatrix. It's not forever." 

"It  _ feels _ like it's forever," Lucius complained. "What's next? Will the Weasley clan descend on me and beg for sanctuary? And the Dark Lord is coming on Saturday.  _ Saturday,  _ Narcissa! And my Death Eater robes don't even fit properly. It's been more than sixteen years.  _ Why can't we have new ones?"  _

"Luci, dear, I think you're overthinking things," Narcissa said gently. "Let's go have a cup of tea in the library and just calm ourselves. Things will work out, you'll see," she promised. "Draco, you'll entertain our guests? And see that Miss Parkinson is made comfortable on her arrival. No doubt Linden has been giving her a hard time about things." 

Draco nodded as Narcissa led Lucius from the table, though Hermione noticed he snatched the bottle of chocolate sauce and pocketed it before following his wife to the library. 

Hermione smirked to herself and sipped her tea, although she was more worried than she cared to admit. The stress of the situation was clearly getting to Lucius, and Hermione wondered how she would stand up to the challenge come nightfall on Saturday. 


	23. Make No Mistake

Pansy arrived early in the afternoon with just a small suitcase and her tawny owl for company. Neither of her parents had seen fit to escort her personally to the Manor, and Pansy explained in a somewhat nonchalant tone that her father refused to speak or even look at her, while her mother washed her hands of the situation, feeling that her daughter had made her own bed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asked hesitantly, as Sassy served the girls tea and butterfly cupcakes in the walled garden of the Manor. 

Pansy snorted into her teacup at Hermione’s suggestion. 

“Do I look like a Hufflepuff to you?” she said with a laugh. 

“Not even a little bit,” Hermione replied, though privately she thought that Pansy looked a little shaken. Even skilfully applied makeup couldn't quite hide the pallor of her complexion or the slight tremble in her fingers as she set down her teacup. 

Her worry seemed to have shown in her face, however, as Pansy frowned and bit her lip. 

"I'm not sorry," Pansy said stubbornly. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’d do it a hundred, no, a _thousand_ times and I’d let Neville fuck me into my father’s desk with my parents and all their high society friends watching, and I’d _enjoy_ every minute of it.”

“Pansy!” Hermione exclaimed, covering her face with her hands and lapsing into giggles. 

“What?” Pansy said defensively. “Neville treats me like a queen. He listens to me and he-- the way he looks at me sometimes… He’s made me feel like more of a priority in a month than my parents ever have in seventeen years. You don’t get it. It’s _worth_ it, Hermione. If this is what it takes so that I don’t have to marry some old pureblood with money and social standing and pop out half a dozen heirs for him; if instead, I get to be _happy_ and be with someone I actually care about and respect, then so be it. I never cared about money or stupid traditions anyway. They can’t control me or take this away from me and that’s what they’re really mad about. So screw them,” she finished, draining her cup of tea. “Come on, I want to go see Cissa’s cats. Last time I was here, Monet got loose and chased one of Lucius’s peacocks all the way from the Nestery to the Carriage House. He was hopping mad,” she said with a grin, leading the way back into the house. 

Hermione followed slowly, her mind a whirl. She wondered if it was possible for her to ever feel the depth of emotion for Draco that Pansy did for Neville. Only time would tell.

* * *

The week seemed to fly by, and in no time at all, it was Saturday. Hermione tried hard not to worry ahead of time, but by late afternoon, she was little more than a ball of nervous energy. To make matters worse, Lord Voldemort showed up two hours earlier than the Malfoys had planned, catching Hermione thoroughly unawares. She happened to be in the drawing room alone at the time, where she was practicing at the piano, when she heard the whisper of that cold voice behind her. Hermione turned, her blood turning to ice, as she stared into those snakelike red pupils. 

“Mudblood, kneel,” Lord Voldemort ordered, and Hermione moved instantly to obey, dropping to her knees at his feet, trying very hard to control her breathing and slow her heart rate like Severus had taught her. _Control your body and you will control your mind,_ he had said, though inwardly she quailed at the thought of her lack of preparation. 

“You are going to render me a great service tonight,” Lord Voldemort said softly. 

“I won’t be rendering you anything,” Hermione said, digging deep in order to play the part of fearless Gryffindor. “I would rather die.” And she would, but she knew he would never let her. Not while Harry still lived. She was his most valuable hostage. 

“Resistance is futile. I have told Potter this many times,” Lord Voldemort said thoughtfully. “I even offered for him to join me once, but he refused.”

“Did he?” Hermione said stiffly, watching Lucius enter the room out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t break eye contact with Lord Voldemort but felt a little relief at having Lucius present. 

“And now you will join me in a drink,” Voldemort declared, producing a bottle and a long-stemmed wine glass from an inner pocket of his robes. Hermione’s heart sank like a stone. _The immunity potion,_ she thought, a little panic creeping over the edges of her control. With Voldemort’s early arrival, she hadn’t taken the potion yet. 

“If you insist,” she said carefully, walling off the panic that threatened to overtake her. 

“I do,” Voldemort said, splashing a good quantity of the red wine into the glass and pressing it into her hand. “Drink,” he commanded. 

Hermione met Lucius’s eyes as she raised the cup to her lips. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and Hermione closed her eyes and drained the glass, the smell of Valerian-laced wine filling her nostrils, as her free will and her deeply ingrained sense of right and wrong faded to the back of her mind. She was the Dark Lord’s puppet now. 

“ _Imperio,”_ Voldemort muttered. “You serve my will and mine alone, Mudblood, do you understand?” 

“Yes, I am yours to command,” Hermione answered flatly. 

“Good,” Lord Voldemort said, apparently satisfied. “Lucius, summon the others. We will depart within the hour. I will not miss this chance to remove Potter from the board permanently. And bring a spare hood for the Mudblood. I want to see the look on Potter’s face when he realises his little friend has betrayed him.” 

* * *

It felt like a bad dream, flashes of faces and sounds danced across Hermione’s mind. The antidote was working, Severus said. The memories of the previous night would return in full, it just took time. A painful lump and a mixture of tears and bile rose in her throat. She’d tried to kill him. Her best friend. She’d tried to kill _Harry._ They had been high up; her and Draco were on a broomstick and Harry was in the sidecar of an old flying motorbike. Even now she could see the look of shock on Harry’s face when a sudden wind had whipped her hood back and revealed her identity. 

She was even more shocked at the memory of the words that had fallen from her lips and the jet of green light that had burst from the end of her wand: _Avada Kedavra._ She’d cast the killing curse. And the only reason Harry wasn’t dead was because Draco had tried to grab her arm at the last second and thrown off her aim. 

Then Harry had shouted “ _Expelliarmus!”_ and her wand had gone spinning out of her hand, lost to the night deepening around them. A snakelike face had loomed out of the shadows and Voldemort had appeared, but then there had been a burst of orange and gold flames and Draco had apparated them both back to the driveway of the Manor. 

At first, it had been a waiting game for the laced wine to leave her system. But now… now she was waiting, they all were… waiting for the Dark Lord to punish them for their failure. Harry had miraculously escaped somehow, and that did not bode well if Hermione or the Malfoys were hoping for forgiveness or mercy from Voldemort. 

* * *

The Dark Lord had summoned them at last. He had decided their fates and it was time to hear the verdict. Hermione waited anxiously in the drawing room beside Draco, Lucius and Narcissa as the Dark Lord paced before them and then halted. 

“Lucius,” he called. ”Step forward. Remind me what it was that I promised you would happen if you or your family failed me again?” 

“You said, my lord, that it would be the last time and the end of the Malfoy line,” Lucius said haltingly. 

“The Malfoy line,” Lord Voldemort said thoughtfully. “Remind me of your House words, Lucius.”

“ _Sanctimonia vincet semper_ \- purity will always conquer,” Lucius replied. 

“Purity,” Voldemort scoffed. “You’re so proud of that, aren’t you, Lucius? Too proud. Too much focus on the purity of your lineage and not enough focus on conquering.”

“My lord?” Lucius said questioningly. 

“House Malfoy’s proud claim to generations of blood purity ends here. It is evident that your pride has blinded you and given you an inflated sense of your own importance,” Voldemort declared. “So, this is my judgement and my sentence to be carried out as soon as may be. Lucius, I release you from your Vow,” he said, waving his wand. Lucius gasped as thin lines of orange flame appeared on his right arm and then faded. 

“My lord, I don’t understand,” Lucius said uncertainly.

“Understand this, Lucius. Your pride and your pure lineage ends with your son. Draco, your only heir, the last of the pure line, will be united with the Mudblood you have chosen to sully your House with … in holy matrimony.” Lucius made a noise of protest, but Voldemort continued. “The heirs of their union will be half-bloods, tainted, but _loyal_ to the right side. These are your new House words, Lucius: _Loyalty will always conquer._ ”

“My lord--” Lucius protested. 

“I have been merciful, Lucius. Do not test me,” Voldemort hissed. “Go, all of you,” he ordered, and the Malfoys and Hermione filed out of the drawing room one by one. 

Hermione locked herself in her room, numb with shock. Sassy had been right, she thought, possessed with a mad desire to laugh. Wedding bells were indeed in the air for herself and Draco.


	24. Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs

Breakfast was a subdued affair the following morning. Hermione chanced a number of glances at Draco throughout the meal, but he didn’t look up, seeming to be focused on stabbing his bacon and eggs with unnecessary venom. Hermione wondered if perhaps Lucius had talked to him last night after Voldemort had left. 

The self-proclaimed Dark Lord’s so-called punishment had been unexpected for certain. Hermione had expected torture and death, not a forced marriage to Draco. How soon did Voldemort expect them to wed? She doubted she would be permitted to have any of her friends or family present. Of all the ways she had pictured her wedding, this was the last she would have thought. She hadn’t told Pansy yet, but there was a gleam in the Slytherin’s eyes when Hermione looked at her that told her Pansy already knew or suspected. 

She glanced at Lucius, but he had retreated behind his paper as soon as Sassy brought it to him, though she noted his breakfast consisted only of a small plate of biscuits and a bottle of chocolate sauce this morning. Hermione looked down at her own plate; her toast lay untouched. Even Sassy’s homemade marmalade couldn’t assuage the fear gnawing at her insides. 

“May I be excused?” she said to no-one in particular, rising from her seat. Narcissa looked up and gave her a nod and a half-smile, as Hermione left the room and retreated to the library. 

Pansy found her an hour or so later, perusing a book on pureblood customs. She gently tugged the book out of Hermione’s hands and quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“You know, if you wanted to know anything about pureblood customs, you could just ask me. Or Draco or Neville,” she added. 

“Or Lucius or Narcissa,” Hermione said with a little bite to her tone. “The only one who isn’t a pureblood around here is me.”

“Does that bother you?” Pansy asked. 

“No,” Hermione replied. “Well… it never used to. It’s just, I thought it would make it easier if I knew what I was getting into.” 

“I can tell you exactly what you’re getting into,” Pansy said with a shrug. “I can tell you that it’s taboo for the bride or groom to smile at all during the ceremony or the reception. House unions are very serious business, after all. Merlin forbid that anyone should be happy on their wedding day,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I can tell you that it’s traditional for the groom to slay a dragon before the wedding and present the head to the bride’s father, as a guarantee that he possesses the strength to protect his future wife from all comers. I can also tell you that it’s traditional to take wedding pictures in the family burial plot to invite the blessing of the ancestors. Not that Draco’s grandfather would ever bless your marriage, but you know, _tradition._ Or perhaps you’d like to hear about setting wedding dates? You kill a baby fwooper together and cut it apart. If you find a healthy liver, the date goes ahead. If not, well, you know what they say, try, try, try again!”

“Stop, stop!” Hermione exclaimed. “I’m going to vomit,” she complained. 

“My point is that none of these traditions are going to help you, Hermione,” Pansy said, leaning forward. “Narcissa knows them all anyway, and she’ll teach you which ones are important. She’s nicer than most people think. Just don’t worry ahead of time. You and Draco have got a good thing going, don’t ruin it by overthinking things. You can’t learn to be pureblood from a book. Just be yourself and screw what anyone else thinks.” 

“What do you mean _me and Draco?_ ” Hermione said with a frown as Pansy smirked. “I’m going to kill Neville,” Hermione muttered. 

“Well, that’s unfortunate. I was actually hoping you could help me to find a way to help him,” Pansy said hopefully. 

“Help him how?” Hermione asked. 

“Well, ideally, I’d like to get him away from here and take him somewhere that You Know Who can’t use him to maul any more people,” Pansy said with a grimace. 

“He told you about that?” Hermone said in surprise. 

“Neville doesn’t keep things from me,” Pansy said. “Not that he could if he tried. Gryffindors are dreadful liars.”

“We are not!” Hermione exclaimed. 

“Liar,” Pansy grinned. “Pants on fire!” she added when Hermione opened her mouth to protest. 

“Anyway,” Hermione continued as Pansy smiled triumphantly. “Help Neville how? The lunar wards keep him here. There’s no getting around them, Pansy.” 

“I know that,” Pansy sighed. “I was just thinking that if he was more in control of it, maybe You Know Who couldn’t use him. Neville isn’t Greyback. He’s never going to willingly hurt people for him.”

“Well, the Dark Lord always seems to find a way around that,” Hermione said bitterly.

“Well, what if he couldn’t?” Pansy said slowly. “If we could get Wolfsbane Potion or make some…”

“It’s a bad idea,” Hermione objected. “Look, I want to help Neville - I do! But, if you get in the Dark Lord’s way or try to stop him from--”

“Using Neville to kill and maim innocent people?” Pansy said, her dark eyes flashing. 

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Hermione said, striving to keep her temper in check. “But running away or using Wolfsbane isn’t the answer. If you do anything that even remotely looks like acting against the Dark Lord’s plans, he’ll know that one of us helped you do it and you won’t pay the price, we will. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to think of something else.”

“ _We,_ ” Pansy repeated with an odd smile. 

“What?” Hermione said impatiently. 

“You said _we._ Sweet Salazar,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re practically a Malfoy already, right down to Family Rule Number One.”

“Which is?” Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

“Malfoys protect Malfoys and everyone else be damned,” Pansy said quietly. 

“It’s not like that,” Hermione protested. 

“Isn’t it? I thought you were a _Gryffindor,_ Hermione _._ Daring, brave and all that rubbish. Rule breakers and mischief makers, or whatever it is the Weasley’s call themselves,” Pansy said furiously. 

“Mischief,” Hermione muttered, the word triggering a memory, an idea slowly forming. 

“What?” Pansy snapped. 

“Mischief! Mischief managed!” Hermione exclaimed, leaping up and dashing over to the bookshelf nearest the door, beginning to rifle feverishly through books as Pansy looked on, utterly perplexed. “Antidotes and Poisons, Astronomy, Artur LeCompt-Voyage, Aconite, Asphodel, Augureys, here it is! _Animagi!”_ Hermione said, pulling an enormously thick book from the shelf and setting it on a low table. 

“Sacred Sorcery: Awakening The Animagus,” Pansy read doubtfully. 

“This is it,” Hermione declared. “This is how to help Neville.”

“How is Neville turning into an Animagus going to help him?” Pansy said confusedly. 

“He’s not going to. You are,” Hermione said determinedly. 

“Why?” Pansy asked. 

“Werewolves are only a danger to _humans_ on the full moon,” Hermione explained. “If you can turn into an animal…”

“Then Neville wouldn’t have to be alone… and I could keep him safe.” Pansy mused. “How did you come up with that?” 

“Have you ever heard of the Marauders?” Hermione asked with a slow smile.


	25. Present Company Excepted

Hermione finished the book at last and set it atop the stack of heavy tomes she and Pansy had read together over the past few days. The Manor Library was extensive, but no book could change the facts - the animagus transformation was _hard_ and Hermione now had more respect for the Marauders than she had thought possible. The transformation took dedication, consistency and a focus she wouldn’t have credited a teenage Sirius Black with. All the books described the transformation the same way - it was _arduous_ and there was no escaping that fact. It could be months before everything lined up the way they needed it to in order to achieve a successful transformation. That was assuming something didn’t go wrong and Hermione and Pansy weren’t left horribly disfigured. Hermione was already having flashbacks to second year and the Polyjuice mishap which had resulted in her being partially transfigured into a cat for the better part of two months. 

She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on her crossed arms with a pensive sigh. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard. Magic always came easily to her. And she couldn’t in good conscience let Pansy struggle through the transformation preparation on her own, so she would have to do it too. She glared at the stack of book spines facing her. She had read all of them in a matter of days - Sassy had been fretting over how little she slept, but Hermione had never been able to put a book down once begun. 

She had read every book on the animagus transformation the Malfoys possessed: _Spirit Awakened - A Modern Guide to Ancient Animagus Transformations and Techniques, Animagus Energy, Magic in Motion - The Path of the Animagus, She Speaks - Heeding the Inner Animagus, Sacred Sorcery - Awakening The Animagus, The Animagus Effect - Life After Transformation,_ and _The Moon and You - Anchoring the Animagus._ None of the books she had read changed the fact that the first step for the transformation required a full moon and a mandrake leaf each - neither of which they possessed at present. The full moon had been nearly a week ago, which meant they would have to wait until the eighteenth of August for the next full moon. But they also lacked the mandrake leaves required to begin the transformation. They would each have to keep a mandrake leaf in their mouths for a full month - from full moon to full moon, in order to begin the transformation process. 

Pansy had informed her that Lucius kept a greenhouse, potting room, conservatory and potions lab at the Manor - all of which were warded to the Malfoy bloodline, making it highly unlikely that Pansy or Hermione would be able to get inside any of the rooms to pilfer Lucius’s stocks of mandrake leaves (assuming he had any). To make matters worse, tomorrow was Neville’s birthday and both were painfully aware of how depressing the occasion would likely seem to him. Seventeen usually signified a wizard’s coming of age. As the only son and heir of Frank and Alice, who had long been established as legally incompetent with regard to the handling of their estate, the management of all Longbottom property had been passed to Augusta who held all property in trust for her grandson until he attained the age of seventeen. Neville would therefore, in ordinary circumstances, have been given a significant portion of his parents properties and a considerable fortune on his seventeenth birthday. It would have been a momentous occasion. 

However, under Delores Umbridge’s _Werewolves, Beasts and Dangerous Half Breeds Act 1993_ (Imperial) legislation, Neville was denied his own birth right, as under section 36(a) werewolves could neither inherit, nor purchase, possess, sell, or lease any real property, whether such property be in the form of land, chattels, shares, or any form of bequeathed property. Such property was to be transferred to the werewolf’s next of kin - in Neville’s case, the majority of his inheritance would go to his uncle Algie, while his grandmother retained the smaller of the two real estate properties, with the ancestral home of Longbottom Keep going to Uncle Algie, while Augusta retained Longbottom Lodge, thanks to a document Frank Longbottom had drawn up prior to his incapacitation by Bellatrix Lestrange. This document granted Augusta beneficial ownership of Longbottom Lodge for the duration of her life. Under the new werewolf laws, upon Augusta’s death, Longbottom Lodge would go to Algie, along with everything else. 

That injustice aside, Neville would be spending his seventeenth, the most significant of birthdays, away from, not only his grandmother and aunt and uncle, but would also be denied the chance to see his parents. He made a point of visiting them every school holidays and on every public holiday too. But for the time being, Neville was a permanent guest at the Manor, unless Lord Voldemort decided otherwise. Neville's birthday this year would be marked with no contact with his family, no inheritance, and nothing to look forward to for the foreseeable future. None of these things had escaped the notice of Pansy or Hermione, however, and both girls had quickly conspired together to come up with a plan to make Neville’s birthday as special and memorable as they could. 

* * *

“That doesn’t look right,” Hermione whispered to Pansy. It was after midnight and the girls had sneaked very quietly down to the kitchen to bake a surprise birthday cake for Neville. 

“I did everything the recipe said,” Pansy hissed back.

“It says to whisk it thoroughly,” Hermione said, consulting the recipe book they had taken from the library. 

“I did,” Pansy said defensively. 

“You did _not_ whisk it,” Hermione said irritably. “You stirred it twice, licked the spoon and drank half of Lucius’s chocolate sauce.”

“So?” Pansy said nonchalantly. 

“ _So,_ he’s going to kill you when he finds out. And also, there’s still lumps in the mixture. That’s not _thoroughly_ whisked if you ask me,” Hermione said stubbornly. 

“Well, I didn’t ask you, did I?” Pansy said with a roll of her eyes. “Pass me that egg, will you?” 

“Why?” Hermione said suspiciously. 

“Because I want to crack it over your head. I hear egg yolk does wonders for a dry scalp like yours,” Pansy said sarcastically. “Why do you think? For the cake!”

Hermione passed Pansy the egg and shot her a withering glare at the same time. “I do _not_ have a dry scalp,” Hermione muttered, scratching her head self-consciously. “Wait!” she exclaimed. 

“What?” Pansy asked, having already cracked the egg into the bowl. 

“The recipe says to add the egg _yolk._ Not the yolk and the white together!” Hermione said critically, checking the book again. 

Pansy groaned and stirred the mixture anyway. “Always by the book,” she complained. “You go through life like that, you’ll never have any fun.” 

A light flicked on outside the kitchen and Hermione made frantic shushing noises at Pansy. But too late. The door swung open a moment later as both girls held their breath. 

“It is very late. Can Sassy help young misses?” the little house elf asked, glancing from guilty face to guilty face. 

“I--we just fancied a cake,” Pansy shrugged, nudging Hermione who nodded vigorously. 

“Yes, _yes._ You know how it is when you get those midnight cravings,” Hermione added. 

“Sassy has never had these cravings,” the elf said suspiciously. “And that-- that is _not_ a cake. Sassy doesn’t know what that is, but it is _not_ a cake. Throw it out before Deary sees!” the elf exclaimed, snatching the bowl and spoon from Pansy and tossing the lot in the trash. 

“Hey!” Pansy protested. 

“Who’s Deary?” Hermione asked with a frown. 

“Deary is the cook. Dodgy tends to Master and Sassy to Mistress and Young Master and anyone else Sassy pleases. Shaky tends the potions and gardens and Foggy tends the animals and grounds, and Dusty cleans,” Sassy summarised. “Not important. Why are young misses wanting cake? The truth,” Sassy said sternly. 

Pansy exchanged a quick look with Hermione, then threw caution to the wind. 

“It’s Neville’s birthday tomorrow. We wanted to make something special--”

“Mister Neville has a birthday? And Sassy is just now hearing about this?” the elf said furiously. “Sassy handles this. To bed, go, go,” she said, ordering them out of the kitchen. Hermione and Pansy obeyed her orders, but heard distinctly from the corridor, the sound of Sassy snapping her fingers and assembling the Manor’s elf staff, handing down orders and marshalling her troops like a general. 

  
“Dodgy - you will tailor birthday robes for Mister Neville at once. Do not wake Mister Neville and do not argue with Sassy or Sassy gets the soap and Dodgy will eat it. Deary - make the food and bake the cake. Chocolate, Sassy is thinking, with chocolate roses, and five tiers high! No, eight!” the elf commanded and Hermione stifled a giggle. “Foggy - sweep the grounds and take every lost peacock feather you find and make them into a birthday crown! Dusty - clean the Manor from top to bottom! Everything must sparkle! Shaky - drinks! Shaky must make a new birthday drink for Mister Neville! A cocktail! And everyone must try! And guests, Shaky, find some guests! And presents! Or games? Both!! And Sassy decorates and makes party dresses for Young Misses _who should be in bed!”_ Sassy added loudly and Hermione and Pansy scurried away, letting Sassy and her staff get to work. It truly would be a party Neville wouldn’t forget.


	26. Many Happy Returns

Lucius Malfoy made his way down to the dining room for his breakfast a little late the next morning. He had not had an easy night, with much tossing and turning, Narcissa eventually kicking him onto the sofa so that at least one of them could get their rest. But even on the most luxurious sofa that galleons could buy, sleep would not come; many worrying thoughts chased their way in circles around Lucius's brain. He finally fell asleep around daybreak and was thus almost an hour late for his accustomed family breakfast time. 

But when Lucius went downstairs, it was to find his lovely manor transformed into a monstrosity of a party. Streamers and birthday banners hung from every wall, a sea of balloons hovered overhead, dozens of guests were assembled, mingling in small groups and chatting gaily as house elves that Lucius recognised as his own, dashed here and there with drinks and delicate pastries. A towering chocolate cake, eight tiers high and decorated with many elaborate swirls and 17's stood in pride of place at the centre of the dining table, with platters on either side of it piled high with dainty treats. And at the centre of all, seated on a high backed chair, wearing dress robes and an absurd crown woven of green and blue peacock feathers, was Neville  _ fucking  _ Longbottom, who was being treated like royalty by each and every guest, who bowed and placed presents at his feet, supervised by Sassy. 

Lucius almost turned around and went back to bed. It was too much, too obscene. He caught sight of Bellatrix, who seemed to have had her lips hexed shut, likely by Sassy, presenting Neville with a gift-wrapped box of Honeydukes and bestowing him with a dark glare that would have withered a Wiggentree. 

"Thank you, Miss Bellatrix. Next," Sassy called, as yet another guest shuffled forward to present Neville with a birthday gift. 

This one, a brand new set of Gobstones, was presented to Neville by Crabbe Sr and his troll faced wife Castalia, who gave a bow to the young Longbottom, alongside her husband, before seizing his arm, the pair of them lumbering off to the makeshift bar manned by Shaky who served the couple two tall glasses of what he had dubbed the 'Mister Wolf;' a mixture of vodka, Curacao liqueur, Sprite, white creme de menthe, and topped with a blue Bertie Botts bean of all things. 

Lucius squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out a sharp breath through his nose.  _ Fuck it _ , he decided, making his way to the bar too. 

"Chocolate martini, please," Lucius said, addressing Shaky. "Double chocolate sauce."

"That costs extra," Shaky informed him as he mixed the drink. 

"What?" Lucius said, certain he hadn't heard right. 

"The signature drink is six sickles, Master," Shaky replied. "Custom drinks cost extra." 

"And  _ what,  _ pray tell, will you do with the money?" Lucius asked, dropping two shiny gold galleons on the counter. 

"All the money from the bar goes to a charity of Mr Neville's choice in celebration of his coming of age," Shaky declared. 

"Of course," Lucius said, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes and sipping at his martini instead. "Carry on," he said with a shrug, snagging a bottle of chocolate sauce from behind the bar and pocketing it. 

_ Party on,  _ Lucius thought with a faint smile, downing his drink when he noticed the arrival of an unexpected guest - the Minister for Magic himself. Lucius went to greet him, noting that two party guests were absent from the merry gathering - his son and one Miss Hermione Granger. 

* * *

"What were you saying about life debts?" Hermione asked, gasping sharply as Draco pressed a searing kiss to her throat, his teeth marking her flesh. 

The pair had slipped away from the party for a few moments alone. Hermione could barely remember the conversation that had preceded this moment, the burning need that Draco aroused in her had almost eclipsed everything else of importance. 

"Well, before you so rudely interrupted me," Draco said, his pale cheeks flushed with colour and his grey eyes alight with passion and the heat of the moment. "I was telling you--" he groaned, his hips flexing involuntarily as Hermione's wandering hand found his zipper and eased it down, sliding her hand into his cotton briefs and beginning to stroke him. 

"Go on," Hermione said, grinning wickedly as she coaxed a panting gasp from Draco's lips. "If you stop, I'll stop," she said threateningly and Draco groaned, desiring friction and release. They'd been doing this dance for months, a stolen kiss here, a little touch there, this was the first time he and Hermione had truly crossed the line into physical intimacy.

"There are three ways to settle a life debt," Draco said haltingly, every word an effort as Hermione's hand returned it's attention to stroking him, coaxing and teasing at his cock as Draco fought for control. "The first way is for me to repay the debt by saving your life. A life for a life," Draco ground out between gasps. "The second," he said with a whining moan as Hermione drew him towards her and took him in her mouth, "... is a period of servitude lasting seven years--" he said, burying his hands in Hermione's long curls, as though by holding onto her, he could keep himself from falling over that glorious edge into a complete loss of control. "And the third -  _ fuck -" _ he moaned, as Hermione's tongue swirled over and around him, tasting and teasing at every inch of his length, "is to call in the debt… and--" he groaned. "...take back the life you saved. It would kill me," he said, crying out as he found his release, Hermione swallowing down every drop of him, licking and sucking at him until he was quite spent. 

"That," Draco panted, "... was  _ amazing."  _

Hermione's eyes glittered in the semi-darkness of Lucius's office. She looked a little too pleased with herself, Draco thought, determined to return the favour, and  _ soon.  _

"We should head back," Hermione said regretfully, standing up and beginning to smooth her hair and clothes back into place. Draco did the same, smirking a little at the thought of what his father would say if he caught the pair of them defiling his office. 

However, the first person they saw when they returned to the party was Lucius, who made a beeline right for them. 

"There you are," he exclaimed brightly, sipping at a chocolate martini. "Go get yourselves a drink. We're about to toast again and cut the cake." 

When Draco had purchased them a Mister Wolf cocktail each, Hermione joined him and the other guests in a rousing rendition of the "happy birthday" song, reducing a proud (and slightly tipsy) Sassy to tears. 

However, the birthday wizard wasn't the only one to receive a gift. As the cake was being cut, Lucius pressed a small book into Hermione's hands.  _ The Tales of Beedle the Bard -  _ a first edition which the Minister had given into his care. The book itself had belonged to the late Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Hermione thanked Lucius and slipped the book into the inside pocket of her robes, planning to peruse it later. She had no idea yet how important the book would be in solving a mystery that was the key to the destruction of the Dark Lord. 


	27. No Invitation Needed

"Where did you and Draco sneak off to yesterday?" Pansy asked with a smirk. 

"What are you talking about?" Hermione replied innocently, busying herself by tying her hair back so she didn't have to see the knowing look on Pansy's face. _Fucking Slytherins._

"I mean, you disappeared from the party for twenty minutes or so," Pansy commented, adding a colour change charm to her nail polish, which was now a glittering emerald green. "What were you doing?" 

Hermione's breath caught in her throat and her cheeks burned as she bit back a guilty grin. 

"Spill already, _"_ Pansy said impatiently. 

"I - we were in Mr Malfoy's office," Hermione admitted. 

"Doing? What were you _doing,_ Hermione? ...or should I say _who?"_ Pansy said with a devious smile. 

Hermione pressed her lips together and shook her head, convinced she'd told Pansy too much already. 

"I - we weren't doing anything," Hermione stammered unconvincingly. 

"Oh _Merlin,_ please tell me you used contraceptive charms," Pansy laughed. 

"It wasn't like that," Hermione declared. 

"Oh? What was it like?" Pansy said, leaning forward with a look of great interest. 

"Well, I can't speak for Hermione," a voice drawled from behind them. "But it was _good_ for me. I mean _really_ good. Exceeds Expectations at _least._ " 

Hermione whirled around, glaring at the smug look on Draco's face. 

"Exceeds Expectations?" she repeated. 

"It's not an insult," Draco said defensively. "Now, Troll, that would be an insult but - " 

"You're no Eloise Midgen - _jinx!"_ Pansy and Draco exclaimed at the same time, laughing hysterically. 

"Honestly, she's a lovely girl," Hermione said in a mildly scolding tone. 

"Her nose is off-centre," Draco shrugged. 

"Ugh, you sound like Ronald," Hermione complained. 

"Don't ever compare me to Weasley," Draco said with a shudder. "Oh, speaking of Weasley..." he added. 

"What?" Hermione said slowly, certain that something awful must have happened. 

"I hear his brother is getting married," Draco said. 

"Oh. Yes, I suppose he is," Hermione said vaguely, having entirely forgotten about Bill and Fleur's impending marriage. "Wait, who told you?" 

"My father. He also gave me a task… from the Dark Lord," Draco said grimly. 

"Is it anything like your last task?" Hermione asked nervously. 

"No," Draco said, shaking his head. "It's a simple observe and report. He wants us to slip into the wedding, identify any Order members and report back if we hear anything about Potter's whereabouts. He's supposedly being hidden by someone in the Order." 

"You can see why I might have a problem with that," Hermione said quietly. 

"I'll do it," Pansy volunteered. 

"No, it has to be me and Hermione. The Dark Lord was very specific," Draco replied. 

"Draco, you would have to _imperius_ me to get me to spy on my friends," Hermione said firmly. 

"Well, that is what the Dark Lord suggested," Draco admitted. 

Hermione glared at him furiously. 

"Are you actually _considering -_?" 

"No," Draco said quickly. "Look, I know - I know what Potter means to you obviously…" 

"Then why even ask me?" Hermione said angrily. 

"I'm _not_ asking, Hermione," Draco said fiercely. "Well, I am. I'm asking you to think about everything Snape has taught you and use this opportunity to our advantage." 

"What advantage?" Hermione said, pausing for a moment. "Harry. If Harry's there we could talk to him, pass him or the Order information." 

"Exactly. The alternative is refusing the Dark Lord and that will just result in him torturing you or using the Imperius Curse on you or he'd send someone in our place anyway. Someone who doesn't care what happens to Potter or the Order," Draco said grimly. 

"I know you're right, I just - How would we even get in without being noticed? Everyone who reads the _Daily Prophet_ thinks I'm a murderer," Hermione said worriedly. 

"Do you really think anyone actually believes Skeeter's rubbish?" Pansy said doubtfully. "Scrimgeour obviously doesn't or he wouldn't have given Lucius that book of Dumbledore's to give you." 

"Mrs Weasley believed it last time," Hermione said sadly. "She thought I was in some ridiculous love triangle with Viktor and Harry." 

"Who cares what some house-witch thinks of you?" Pansy retorted. 

"Mrs Weasley has been - she's like family to me," Hermione said softly. 

"Polyjuice!" Draco exclaimed suddenly. "Sorry, it just occurred to me. Look," he said gently. "Maybe we can explain…" 

"Draco, let me be perfectly clear," Hermione said slowly. "I love Molly Weasley. The woman is family as far as I'm concerned. But there is no way in hell she's going to listen to a word I have to say. You don't _tell_ Mrs Weasley anything. You show her."

"How exactly?" Draco asked. 

"I'm going to help Harry win, and she'll see… one day," Hermione said quietly. 

Draco didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway, giving Hermione's hand a comforting squeeze.

"So you'll be my date to the wedding?" he said with a slow smile. 

"Your date?" Hermione repeated. "I was _actually_ invited. You're _my_ date, Draco Malfoy." 

"Well, as _your_ date," Draco said with a smirk. "I have a little gift for you." 

"What is it?" Hermione said suspiciously, as Draco placed a long, thin box on her lap. 

"Open it," Draco shrugged. 

Hermione lifted the lid and gave a little gasp of surprise, drawing a beautifully crafted vinewood wand from the box, a familiar warmth washing over her as she swished the wand, silver sparks drifting from the wand tip and settling on the floor. 

"I thought mine was - " 

"Lost in the Privet Drive attack? It was," Draco agreed. "That's a custom job from _Twisted Cores_. Randi Yaxley is supposed to be quite good. She's the one that crafted it for you. I mean it was my fault yours was lost in the first place," he added guiltily. 

"Don't do that," Hermione said. 

"Do what?" Draco asked. 

"Do you really think I blame you for my wand being lost? If you hadn't been there that night, Harry would've - I could've killed him. I nearly did," Hermione said grimly. 

"But you didn't," Draco said quickly. 

"Because of you," Hermione said softly, blushing as Draco's storm-grey eyes met hers. 

"Should I leave you two alone?" Pansy said with a grin. 

"No," Draco said awkwardly. "I'll have a word to Snape about the Polyjuice. Maybe you can help Hermione find something to wear," he suggested. 

"I could do that," Pansy agreed. "It's been forever since I played dress-up." 

Hermione groaned. Pansy Parkinson was going to be the death of her. 

* * *

Hermione tugged Draco's hand, dragging him over to join the queue of witches and wizards lined up outside the Burrow's garden, the guests slowly making their way toward the marquee that had been set up. 

"I look ridiculous," Draco complained. "If you ever tell - " 

"Shush," Hermione muttered, her eyes on the ushers waiting to direct guests to their seats, though she had to admit, Draco did look very pretty. Lucius had obtained the blonde hairs of a Ministry secretary for the Polyjuice, resulting in Draco and Hermione masquerading as identical blonde twins. The ushers were all too familiar to Hermione - Fred, George, Ron and a red-headed boy (presumably a Weasley cousin) were waiting for the guests with maps and seating charts.

"Excellent, I think I see a few Veela cousins. They'll need help understanding our English customs. I'll look after them," George exclaimed, starting towards Draco and Hermione. 

"Not so fast, Lugless," Fred said with a smirk, darting ahead of his twin and approaching the pair. "Here - _permettez-moi to assister vou,"_ Fred said kindly, offering his arm to Hermione, who lapsed into giggles and accepted Fred's arm, dragging Draco along with her. 

She just happened to glimpse Remus and Tonks at the head of the queue and strained to listen in on their conversation with the Weasley cousin. 

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said quietly, and Hermione nearly gave herself whiplash with the speed at which her head whipped around. "Arthur told us you were the one with the curly hair..." Tonks explained, but the rest of her words were lost as Fred led Hermione and Draco to some vacant seats. 

Hermione waited for Fred to leave, then leaned in to whisper to Draco. 

"Harry's here," she muttered. 

"What? Where?" Draco asked, craning his neck. 

"He's Polyjuiced too - the red-headed usher over there with Professor Lupin," Hermione said, gesturing. 

"How are we supposed to get him alone to talk to him?" Draco hissed. 

"Leave it to me," Hermione said reassuringly. "How much Polyjuice do we have?" 

"Enough for six hours each if we time it to the hour," Draco replied. 

"That'll be enough," Hermione murmured. "I'll talk to Harry after the ceremony." 

* * *

The ceremony had been beautiful, Hermione thought, determinedly not thinking about the wedding and marriage that lay in her future, as per Voldemort's command. 

"I'll get some drinks while you talk to Potter," Draco muttered, slipping away to the bar. 

Hermione glanced around for the red-headed Weasley cousin, there being so many red-heads assembled that the task was somewhat difficult. 

_Where would Harry be at a dance?_ Sitting with Ron, watching his date dance with someone else, if the Yule Ball was anything to go by, Hermione thought with a smirk, spying Ron sitting near Viktor Krum, who was chatting to a red-headed Weasley cousin - _Harry._

Hermione made her way over to the three wizards, averting her eyes from Viktor's. 

"Excuse me," she said with a smile for Harry. "Would you care to dance?" 

"Oh, er…" Harry stammered awkwardly. "I'm kind of talking to - "

"Wonderful," Hermione said, seizing Harry's hand and tugging him to his feet. "Such a gentleman," she muttered, half-dragging Harry to the dance-floor. 

"What is the point of being an international Quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?" Krum muttered after them, and Hermione grinned, clasping one of Harry's hands and placing his other hand on her waist, beginning to guide him around the dancefloor. 

"So, um, what's your name?" Harry asked awkwardly, and Hermione rolled her eyes. 

"Harry, it's me," she muttered. 

"Uh, my name's Barney," Harry said, panic flashing in his eyes. "Who's me?" he added. 

"Hermione, you prat," she exclaimed, jabbing him in the ribs. 

"Wait, _what?"_ Harry said in shock. 

"Honestly, Harry, did you really think you were the only one who thought of Polyjuice? Although, I must admit, it's turned out much better this time than it did in second year. No tail this time," Hermione grinned. 

"You - _Hermione?_ How?" Harry stammered in disbelief. "Are you - are you alright? What's been going on?" 

"We don't have much time, Harry," Hermione replied. "I'm fine. I'm sorry about Privet Drive. I - I was Imperiused at the time, I - "

"I figured that," Harry said with a look of concern. "I knew it wasn't you, the _real_ you. Why are you here?"

"I came to help you," Hermione said warmly. 

"How?" Harry asked. 

"This is a contact Galleon," Hermione said, slipping the coin into Harry's pocket. "I've charmed it to send short messages, instead of dates like I did with the D.A." 

"Thanks," Harry said blankly. 

"This bag is magically extended," Hermione added, looping it over Harry's arm. "Inside it is _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. I took it from the Malfoy's library. I've underlined the sections that tell you how to destroy a Horcrux."

Harry's eyes widened. 

"How did you - ? You graffitied a book?" he exclaimed with a laugh.

"And I've written a list of protective enchantments for you and Ron to use. There's a tent in there too. I nicked it from Arthur's toolshed after the ceremony. You and Ron can disappear and stay safe while you - while you hunt Horcruxes. Just follow the instructions I've written for you," Hermione said pleadingly. 

"Hermione - you're - _Merlin,_ you're incredible," Harry muttered, shaking his head. 

"I'm doing what I can," Hermione replied. "But, Harry - " 

A silver lynx Patronus landed on the dancefloor and Hermione froze. 

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming," Kingsley's voice exclaimed urgently, as the Patronus faded into mist. 

"Hermione - " Harry said anxiously. 

"Go, Harry! Just be _safe_. I'll contact you," Hermione promised, watching in horror as many masked and hooded Death Eaters began materialising in the crowd. 

Harry nodded and let go of her as Hermione ran through the crowd, casting shield charms left and right, searching desperately for Draco. She saw Harry and Ron disapparate out of the corner of her eye and hoped to Merlin that they listened to her for once. 

"Hermione," a voice yelled, and suddenly Draco was there, tension radiating off him, the effects of the Polyjuice beginning to fade. 

He seized her hand and they twisted and vanished in mid-air, reappearing at the Manor - safe for now, depending on how they played their next cards. 


End file.
